


Fuck me, I'm Irish

by Goldpeaches



Series: The Aidan Show [1]
Category: The Hobbit RPF
Genre: Age Play, Angst, Drag Queens, M/M, Pet Play, Prostitution, Somnophilia, Swearing, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-15
Updated: 2014-05-15
Packaged: 2018-01-24 21:43:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 11
Words: 43,589
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1618079
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Goldpeaches/pseuds/Goldpeaches
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU. Aidan has an agent who handles his appointments. He gets paid by the hour and he would never sell his ass on the street. (Again.) He’s had sex with a lot of men. He’s good looking, he can hold a conversation and doesn’t do drugs. His best friend is a Drag Queen and he can afford to live in one of the most exciting cities in the world.<br/>Sounds grand, so far, doesn’t it?<br/>His life was brilliant, actually, until he met Dean…<br/>He’s a prostitute and he may kiss on the mouth, but he would never, ever, ever fall in love with a client!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Choose a job you love…

**Author's Note:**

> The story is based on this [prompt](http://hobbit-kink.livejournal.com/6124.html?thread=21463276#t21463276) over at the hobbit kink meme and was written for the [Hobbitstory BigBang on Livejournal.](http://hobbitstory.livejournal.com)
> 
> English is my second language and sadly I was unable find a native speaker to beta read this story. I would have hoped to find one before posting, but I didn’t so we all are going to have to deal with that now ;) If you find something incredibly awkward in there, please let me know so I can fix it!  
> I did my best and I am very grateful for [Lilly_13](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Lilly_13/pseuds/Lilly_13)'s support throughout this unexpected novella.  
>    
>  **Please check out the gorgeous Banners the talented[Knowmefirst](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Knowmefirst/pseuds/Knowmefirst) made for this story [ here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1617623). Her banners are absolutely stunning!**
> 
>  
> 
> (And just in case anyone wants a good laugh, I made a manip of Aidan in Drag, which you [can see here.](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1618028))

He always feels bad for the nervous ones. And Dean is so nervous, he looks like he is about to turn around and run. Or faint. Or both. Just not at the same time, obviously.

“Hi, I’m Aidan,” he says with a warm smile that crinkles the corners of his eyes. “Did you get here okay?” He closes the front door and brushes his upper body against Dean’s when he helps him out of his heavy winter coat.

“I’m Dean. And I did,” he replies and smiles with an awkward shrug, when he can’t think of anything else to say. “Oh, uhm…” He pulls an envelope out of his pocket. „I, uhm, do I give this to you before or… after?“

Aidan finishes with the coat and reaches for the envelope. His fingers linger over Dean’s for a brief moment, before he takes it.

“I think it is so much better to get the paperwork out of the way so we can enjoy our evening together.”

Aidan shows Dean into the living room that is dominated by a massive, but incredibly comfortable charcoal coloured couch. 

“Can I get you a drink?”

“Yeah, thanks.” Dean wanders into the living room and is instantly drawn to a large painting of Big Ben. It is ugly as hell, but Aidan likes it, because the vibrant colours work completely against the sleek, smooth design of the room. Buying it and hanging it up on the wall felt like giving the finger to the condescending decorator who had transformed his messy and lived in bachelor flat into a sophisticated environment for “entertaining”. She had talked him into “light sage” coloured cushions and “dusty teal” walls, which looked very nice, once everything was done. A fact that annoyed Aidan just a little more and made him feel very naughty about the bold primary colours in the painting.

He walks into the kitchen texting a quick “ok” to his agent on the way and then counts the money in the envelope. Two hundred Pounds seems like a lot when he holds it in his hands, and for a male escort it is. On the other hand, some girls who have been in the game not longer than him won’t even get out of bed for anything under three fifty. Or get _in_ bed, in this case. 

The money comes in small notes, which tells Aidan that Dean didn’t stop at a cash machine on his way. He saved up, put away a fiver or a tenner whenever he could afford to. He decides not to think about that too much. He tucks the envelope safely into the cutlery drawer and opens the fridge.

There are a few bottles of champagne and wine, but Aidan thinks that a fancy drink would not help to calm Dean’s nerves.

“Is beer okay?”

“Beer’s great.”

Aidan nods relieved as he gets the bottles. He likes when he can be casual and relaxed with a client, when he doesn’t have to pretend to like champagne or enjoy the opera or know anything at all about symbolism in Kafka’s work. He wrote a book about a fucking cockroach and that’s where his interest begins and ends on the subject. 

“So, do you like London?” Aidan walks up to Dean, who is still staring at the painting in puzzled amazement. He stands closely behind him so that he has to hug him to give him the bottle of beer. “You’re not from here. Your accent kind of gives it away.”

“Neither are you,” Dean twists out of Aidan’s arm, crosses the room and sits on the sofa instead.

“Ireland. Dublin. Well, the area.” He can never keep that little smile of his lips when he thinks of home. He loves London. He loves the anonymity and the genuine social apathy, but he still misses Ireland occasionally.

He joins Dean on the couch.

“I am from New Zealand,” his guest says and manages to honestly look at Aidan. He is cute, Aidan decides. His eyes are lively and clever, hinting that there is an entirely different personality hidden behind the nervous shyness.

“Really? Wow. I always wanted to go there.” It’s a line. A stock answer Aidan gives to every client, just to keep the conversation going. Although he has to admit that New Zealand sounds a lot more exciting than the usual. Belgravia, Brighton, Berlin, Belgium. Places that are just as dull as the endless stream of businessmen they produce. Men who are boring and bored and visit him for a bit of excitement the missus mustn’t know about. 

Aidan gently places his hand on Dean’s thigh and edges closer to whisper in his ear. “If I had known that there are gorgeous guys like you in New Zealand, I would have gone ages ago.” He pauses just long enough to add some tension and then kisses Dean’s neck softly, just below the ear. Dean turns his head to the side to give Aidan better access. He smells of shower gel and shampoo and a very intriguing fragrance of mint and green apples mixed with amber and cedar. Fascinated, Aidan licks the stubble on Dean’s jaw and brings up his other hand to cup his cheek and turn his head. He wants to kiss Dean, genuinely, not because it comes with his job description. Dean’s lips part ever so slightly, but when Aidan’s mouth reaches his he pulls away and all but jumps off the sofa.

Aidan allows himself to sink deeper into the cushions. He is confused and not sure what the problem is. His eyes follow Dean, who comes to a stop by the window overlooking a patch of grass that allows Aidan’s landlord to charge extra for having a backyard. 

“I’m sorry if I’m not…” Aidan begins after a short moment of silence. “Is there anything you want me to do? Anything at all? This clearly isn’t working for you.”

“Oh, it is working,” Dean says with an apologetic smile. “You are so nice and I am a total dick. Sorry.”

“You’re not a dick.” Aidan reassures and runs his hands through his curls. He wants to give every single client what they came for and needs to come up with a new strategy to get Dean in the mood. He seems to be intimidated by Aidan’s first direct approach, which happens occasionally, so he decides to slow things down.

He fakes a yawn and stretches, allowing his T-Shirt to ride up just a little to expose some slightly tanned skin.

“There is a bathroom down to the end there. How about you freshen up and then join me in the bedroom. We can pop in a DVD and relax for a bit.”

Dean agrees and after Aidan has appreciated the way his jeans show off his ass when he walks, he springs into action. He is very thankful that his agency instructs all clients on issues of hygiene and that everyone is expected to shower and brush their teeth. It saves him the awkwardness of having to explain the procedure. When Aidan started the job and worked for a pimp rather than an agent, he had to put up with pretty much everything, from the worst cases of body odour to men who seemed to have bathed in aftershave. Now all he has to do is place sample sized toiletries and single use toothbrushes and soft towels in the bathroom and give a hint when the timing is right.

He quickly brushes his teeth over the kitchen sink to get rid of the beer taste in his mouth and undresses on the way to the bedroom. He makes sure to leave his shoes and socks out of sight, but to drop his t-shirt and jeans on the floor for Dean to see.

In the bedroom he immediately dims the lights almost all the way and searches for some candles. Usually there is no need - or even time - for candles, but he is trying to create a comfortable atmosphere for Dean to feel save enough to unwind. He finds them in a box under the bed behind the toys he only uses on special occasions. Masks, whips, soft rope and chains, feathers and clamps. Medical equipment and grotesquely large dildos. Things he is not really into, but then again, he is pretty good at faking enthusiasm for all kinds of things if the money is good.

While he waits for Dean to finish in the bathroom, he gets the bottle of lube. As a general rule, men who have never been fucked don’t use enough lube. Most guys have the porn fuelled idea that a bit of spit is enough for a good half hour of fucking. It isn’t and Aidan has learned that hardly anyone ever notices if he does a little preparation beforehand. 

He has done it so many times, he could do it in his sleep. Sometimes he thinks that his job is not that different from any other job where you get paid to do the same thing over and over, every day. Then his finger slips inside and his heartbeat speeds up just a little and he knows that this is not another day at the office for him, because he _likes_ it. He loves his job, he loves the sex and the adventure that starts every time he opens the door for a stranger or walks into a hotel room with a key that has been left for him at the reception. He never knows what to expect and that keeps things exciting. His left hand wraps around his cock and strokes to bring it to life. He wants to give Dean the illusion that he is just desperate to be fucked.

When he hears the shower stop, he wipes his hands on some tissues he always keeps by the bed and waits for Dean. For some clients he would lounge on the bed seductively, for others, he would continue to touch himself and tell them that he was thinking about them and just couldn’t help himself. For Dean he simply stands next to the bed, arms at his side and tries his best to look inviting and attractive.

Dean, he notices, looks very attractive. After his shower he is dressed in black boxer briefs and a light grey T-Shirt that is just tight enough to give an idea of the nicely toned body underneath. 

“Come here,” Aidan says softly and reaches a hand out. Dean takes it and allows Aidan to pull him closer. Aidan brings the hand up to his mouth. He brushes his lips against Dean’s knuckles, and places little kisses on each fingertip. He moves his lips over the palm and notices that Dean relaxes and gets into it. He even strokes his thumb experimentally over Aidan’s cheek. Once, twice until he has gathered enough confidence to wrap his hand around the back of his neck and quickly bumps his lips against Aidan’s. It hardly qualifies as a kiss, so Aidan grabs the front of Dean’s T-Shirt before he can pull away from him fully.

“We can do better than…” He is cut off by the press of Dean’s mouth on his. It only lasts a moment longer before Dean breaks away again, hovering so close that their lips are almost touching. Aidan can feel Dean’s breath ghosting over his skin, quick and hot. He cannot help thinking that Dean is still uncomfortable, but when he tries to turn away, give him some space, the hand at the back of his neck tightens and then Dean is kissing him. Properly. And it is glorious. It begins softly, lips parted only slightly, but the kiss grows deeper and more heated quickly as their tongues start to explore each other.

Dean slips his free hand around Aidan’s waist to pull him closer, while his other hand is still buried in his hair, fingers knotted into dark curls. Aidan’s hand, still flat against Dean’s chest, starts to slide down, over his stomach until his fingers reach the slight swell of his cock.

He takes the small noise Dean makes in the back of his throat as permission to start rubbing his palm against the growing bulge. It feels hot against his hand, and Dean responds to his teasing by rocking his hips slightly. 

They break the kiss to breathe.

“Wow,” Dean says with a little laugh. “That was really good.” His cheeks are flushed and his eyes are full of confused affection. 

“So it was,” Aidan agrees. “But let’s see if we can go from really good to fucking great.”

Dean laughs again and Aidan is glad to finally see him a bit more open. He has a likeable smile that gives him adorable dimples and crinkles the corners of his eyes and it suits him much better than the nervous worried look.

“You should smile more often,” Aidan says and pulls Dean’s T-Shirt over his head before he kisses him again. It turns out that he was right about Dean’s body. He is in great shape with toned muscles under pale skin and Aidan is pleased to see that his chest has a fair amount of hair, just the way he likes it. He runs his hands over Dean’s chest, stopping only to tease his nipples until they are hard and pink, practically begging to be licked and nibbled.

He gestures for Dean to sit on the bed and kneels down between his legs and continues his kisses down his neck. He explores Dean’s chest with his mouth and takes his time. He loves to play. That, he thinks, is the reason why he can charge as much as he does. He doesn’t want to get the client off as quickly as possible, he wants them to enjoy the ride and get some fun out of it for himself as well, if he can. The clients appreciate that. They can have an orgasm on their own. What they want someone to want them, even if it is just for an hour or an evening.

Judging from the way he writhes, Dean is enjoying himself a lot, so Aidan gently pushes Dean’s boxer briefs down. Without ever stopping to kiss Dean’s chest, Aidan gets the condom he has tucked into the waistbands of his own pants and rolls it over Dean’s hard cock. Basic unflavoured protection, because nothing makes him gag quicker than the artificial flavours of strawberries, bananas, apples and worst of all, chocolate. He definitely doesn’t want to do any gagging on a beautiful dick like this one.

Aidan pushes Dean’s upper body onto the bed and moves down, torturously slow, until his forehead is pressed against his pelvic bone and he can kiss the base of his length. Aidan pauses, runs his hands up Dean’s thighs, dusted with golden hair, and enjoys the little whimpers he gets in response. This one moment is so full of expectation and excitement that he wants to draw it out. A perfect moment in which time seems to stand still, before they break the spell and everything speeds up again.

“You’re really hot,” he purrs and opens his mouth around the head of Dean’s length. It slides easily in, all the way until it hits the back of Aidan’s throat. Dean’s hips twist and he moans deeply. Aidan moves his head back up slowly and works his tongue around the head, before ducking down again.

He keeps bobbing his head until he notices that Dean’s breathing becomes quicker and his moans grow louder.

“So.” He wraps his hand around the cock and twists it gently up and down. “How would you like to fuck me?”

“Uhm,” Dean pushes himself up on his elbows. He looks like he wants to say something but doesn’t quite know how.

“It’s okay. You can tell me anything.” Aidan says in a seductive tone gives Dean a little wink.

“The truth is, I’ve never been with a man before.” 

This confession doesn’t come as a surprise, so Aidan just nods encouragingly and keeps on stroking.

“I’ve only ever had girlfriends, but I always felt that, maybe…” He bites his bottom lip. It makes him look lost and adorable at the same time and Aidan would like nothing better than to kiss him. But not until he found out what Dean has on his mind. “What I am trying to say is, would you be able to, you know, fuck me instead? I know it says on the website that it’s not what you do, so if you don’t want to do it…” This time Aidan does lean in to kiss Dean, if only to shut him up. The agency’s website only describes him as a bottom, because there is more money in it. There seems to be an unwritten rule amongst men, that it is perfectly fine to receive oral from another man or fuck him up the bottom, but to never give a blowjob and definitely never get a cock up their own ass, because that would make them gay. Aidan often wonders why these guys don’t get a female escort and be done with it. To him, it doesn’t make sense to sleep with someone if you are scared of his penis, but he is hardly in the position to complain.

There are others, of course. Men who are comfortable with their sexuality and willing to experiment, to touch and to experience, which is always fun. Aidan is relieved that Dean seems to fall into the second group. Maybe not quite comfortable yet, but sure willing to give it an honest try.

“I’d love to.” There it is again, that dimpled smile, as if a huge weight has been lifted off Dean’s shoulders. It makes Aidan feel like he gets rewarded for something, he hasn’t even done yet.

In one smooth move, he takes off his underpants and helps Dean into a more comfortable position on the bed. Then he reaches into the nightstand to grab the bottle of lubricant and a handful of condoms.

“You look gorgeous like this. Waiting for me.” Aidan allows his eyes to travel over Dean’s body before he hands him a condom. “I could really use your help with this.” He notices that Dean’s hands are shaking just a little, but he is gentle as he rolls the condom down Aidan’s cock and even gives him a few curious strokes to which Aidan responds with a moan that is only slightly exaggerated. Just enough to be encouraging.

While Dean is experiencing his first contact with a penis that isn’t his own, Aidan uses another condom to cover his index finger. He applies a generous amount of lube and after giving it a moment to warm up, he moves his hand between Dean’s legs, which he spreads willingly.

Dean’s hand stops dead mid-stroke when Aidan finds his hole and circles it with his latex-covered finger. 

“Is that okay?” Aidan shifts a little so that he lies next to Dean on the bed. He rests his head on his free hand allowing him to watch Dean’s face.

“Yeah.”

“Did you ever put anything inside? A toy, maybe?” His voice is low and seductive and he delights in the way Dean lowers his eyes bashfully.

“Just a finger,” he whispers. “Just to see what it’s like.”

“Just a finger,” Aidan repeats and applies a little more pressure with his own. “I bet you loved it.”

He pushes in, carefully but determined. There is a slight resistance, but judging from the way Dean closes his eyes and lets his head fall back into the pillow, it is involuntary. 

“I did,” he breathes to answer the question.

“Yeah, I can imagine you, fucking yourself on your finger.” Aidan starts doing just that, pulling his finger out and pushing it back in, over and over while he speaks. “I bet you loved it so much you wanted more. Didn’t you? You wanted to have a second finger inside you as well. Stretching you.”

“Yes. I do. I mean, I did. Ah, fuck, just do it already.”

Aidan chuckles and kisses Dean’s shoulder. He slips his middle finger into the condom and eases both of them into Dean’s tight hole.

“Fuck. Aidan!”

Hearing his name gasped like this is an incredible turn on and Aidan can’t help grinding against Dean, who groans and grabs Aidan’s chin, turning his head up for a bruising kiss. In a tangle of limbs and kisses, Aidan climbs between Dean’s legs. Dean pushes his body against his hand, making it clear that just fingers aren’t enough anymore.

“Are you ready?” Aidan asks breathless. “Are you stretched nice and wide for me?”

“God, yes.”

He wraps Dean’s legs around his hips and uses more lube, before he rubs the tip of his cock against Dean’s entrance teasingly. He watches Dean closely as he finally pushes in, past the tight ring of muscles and into the soft warmth of the body underneath him. Dean closes his eyes, screws them shut. His hands clutch Aidan’s arms, making him pause.

“Are you okay?” 

Dean doesn’t reply immediately. He takes a few deep breaths, before he opens his eyes again.

“Shit, your cock is huge!”

They both try hard to stop it, but Aidan can’t keep in the laughter that is bubbling up and when it comes out, Dean joins him and Aidan jut adores the way Dean laughs.

“Believe it or not, no one has ever said that to me.”

“Well, it is true. Congratulations.”

Dean brushes his hands up and down Aidan’s arms.

“What do we do now?”

“We try to make you comfortable and then I’m going to make you feel really good.” Aidan rolls his hips gently just to give Dean an idea of what is waiting for him. His cock twitches slightly and his hands grip Aidan’s arms a little harder.

“I’m comfortable,” he says under a sharp inhale. “Keep doing that.” So Aidan does. He rocks against Dean, maybe a little rougher than he should, but he can’t stop himself. Dean is tight and hot and soft and good and Aidan really wants him. This is not the illusion of desire he keeps up for the sake of getting paid. He actually enjoys this, but so does Dean. He has his legs wrapped tightly around Aidan and his nails dig into his back almost painfully and for once Aidan doesn’t care if they leave marks. 

It is. Completely. Unprofessional.

“Aidan! Oh, my God!”

He loves the screaming, so unexpected from the quiet Kiwi and the little sounds that he makes. Aidan wants to keep them coming, so he shift his hips, changing the angle, grips Dean’s waist to hold him down and take control.

They don’t make love and they don’t have sex. They fuck, hard and desperate, bedsprings creaking in protest while their bodies slam into each other.

“Fuck, Aidan, I’m gonna…”

“Yeah, do it.” It is an impulsive decision that makes Aidan reach between their bodies and take the condom off Dean. “Do it, come all over yourself.” 

Dean makes a strangled noise in the back of his throat and Aidan gasps. He can feel Dean tightening around his cock, splashing milky liquid onto his chest and stomach while reaching an orgasm without ever being touched.Some of it gets on Aidan's hand and having apparently lost all sense, he brings the hand up to his mouth. The salty but sweet taste pushes him over the edge as well. He bucks his hips a few more times, before a wave of pleasure washes over him. He collapses from his hands onto his forearms, burying his head in the crook if Dean’s neck. He doesn’t care about the sticky come gluing them together. He gives them both a moment before he pulls out and allows reality to return.

A reality that includes his fucking ridiculously, risky, amateurish behaviour. Not only did he get completely lost in his own pleasure, he also broke the first and basically only rule of having sex with strangers: never getting in touch with any bodily fluids.

“Shit, I’m so sorry,” he whispers. “I shouldn’t have…”

“Sorry? Are you joking? You were amazing. For a moment I thought you…” Dean stops mid sentence and runs his hand through Aidan’s hair, slightly damp with sweat. “Thanks.” He says and Aidan replies with a kiss. 

“Is it really this late?” Dean squints at the alarm clock on the bedside table. “The hour is already gone. Shit. I didn’t realize…”

“It’s fine,” Aidan places a hand on Dean’s shoulder to push him back onto the bed. “It’s only ten past and it’d be pretty bold of me to kick you out just like that.”

“This is so not how I imagined,” Dean confesses and quickly adds “in a good way,” when he sees the frown on Aidan’s face. “I didn’t think you’d be so nice. I don’t know what I expected, but…”

Aidan gives Dean another silencing kiss. He doesn’t want to talk about anything that reminds him of the fact that Dean is his client. He wants to pretend, just for a moment, that they didn’t just carry out nothing more than a business transaction. A service in exchange for money is all this should be, but somehow it isn’t.


	2. These shoes aren't made for walking

“This is Highbury and Islington. Change here for London Overground and National Rail Services. This is a Victoria Line train to fuck, Aidan, I’m gonna…” 

Aidan jolts out of his daze and rubs his eyes with the heels of his hands. He hasn’t been able to sleep much since Dean left. Every time he dozes off, Dean visits him in his head. After almost 36 hours, it is starting to become annoying and Aidan feels fragile and exhausted. Usually clients don’t get to him. Not the good ones, anyway.

He watches the train doors slide shut, blinking slowly and just as the train starts rolling again he catches a glimpse of the sign on the platform that says “Highbury & Islington”. He jumps up from his seat as if someone had lit a fire beneath him. This is his stop! _Was_ his stop…

“Fuck!” He smacks his hand against the door uselessly. “Shit! Fuck!”

He is aware of the little old ladies and the school kids and mothers watching him scandalized. One woman even pulls her little boy into her arms, away from Aidan.

“Sorry,” he mumbles to no one in particular and runs his hands through his hair. With a sheepish smile he adds: “I’m Irish”. It seems to be enough of an explanation for the fellow passengers who return their attention to their mobiles and tablets and iPods and newspapers, which kind of says a lot about them.

Even though he gets off at the next stop, Finsbury Park, races through the station and snatches a cab away from some guy who threatens to cut his balls off, Aidan arrives a few minutes late at Iago’s house.

He curses his agent once again for insisting to have their weekly agency meetings at his home in Islington. Who lives in fucking Islington? No one could afford the rent! Then again, things are put harshly into perspective when the door is opened by Iago’s housekeeper Jola, a short blonde girl, dressed in a uniform that is not quite a French maid costume, but pretty close. She is undeniably gorgeous. Iago exclusively surrounds himself with beautiful things, and when Aidan started working for him, he was excited to fit the description. That was before he got to know Iago better.

“Coffee,” she asks in her strangely deep, accented voice as she takes Aidan’s coat and scarf.

“You’ re an angel.” Aidan smiles at her, genuinely, after deciding not to take offense that coffee was offered before he is even really inside. He must look like shit, so why pretend that he doesn’t?

“I bring,” she says. “They are in meeting room”

“Yeah, thanks.” He makes his way through to the lounge, where everybody is already sitting around a large table. They fall silent when Aidan enters the room. Again, he has all eyes on him.

“You are late.” Iago is sitting in his usual place at the head of the table, ruling over his little kingdom of whores. Aidan doesn’t often feel self-conscious, he knows that he is good looking and fit and he can handle Iago’s sarcasm, but today his palms are sweating just from walking into the room. “You kept everyone waiting.”

Aidan offers an apologetic smile to his colleagues which some return. Others hardly notice him at all. Richard smiles back. There is something fatherly about it. Or possibly condescending. It is hard to tell with him, but Aidan still wishes he could be more like him. Richard is cultured, charming, always polite and a true gentlemen, who always looks absolutely impeccable. He only works with female clients and is usually booked for weeks. 

“I’m sorry. I kind of…” Iago interrupts his explanation by clearing his throat pointedly, so he just takes a seat and slides a plastic zip lock bag across the table, watching almost 500 pounds disappear in Iago’s cash box. He thinks that it's incredibly unfair that Iago gets 40 per cent of everything Aidan makes, even though he only spends a few minutes every day to respond to emails, take calls and make appointments. 

He sighs in relief when Jola brings him his coffee in delicate bone china. It offers a welcome distraction from the unfairness of the world of fucking for cash and he makes full use of the opportunity by pouring milk and shoveling sugar into the cup. 

He zones out, while Iago goes through his files. He has one on every escort working for him. He keeps track of everything. Appointments and money. Client names and contact details. Reviews.

“… Dean?”

“Huh?” Aidan snaps back to reality at the mention of the name. He wasn’t even aware that Iago had started talking to him again. 

“He was a first time client, so I would like to know if he was satisfied and if he will use our service again.” 

“Uhm,” Aidan gives his coffee another stir. “Did he say anything?”

“No. He hasn’t been in touch.” Iago fixes his gaze on Aidan. It is incredibly unnerving to have those ice-grey eyes on him like that. He always speaks in a cool, measured tone, but now he slows his speech down even more, as if he was talking to someone particularly thick. “That’s why I’m asking you.”

“I think, yeah, he liked it. But I don’t know if he will come back. I think he isn’t even that gay.”

Even though it wasn’t intended to be funny, he receives some chuckles for the comment and even Richard smiles once again. Iago, on the other hand, remains unimpressed und just makes a note in Aidan’s file before he turns the page over. They go through Aidan’s appointments. He saves a couple of new ones in his phone and confirms older ones. 

“Jimmy asks if you are available on the second.”

Jimmy is one of Aidan’s regular clients and one of his favourites as well. He is a good natured Irishman with a ton of money that he likes to spend on the things he enjoys. Aidan is definitely one of the things he enjoys. A lot. And often, when he happens to be in town. Things are never boring with Jimmy, so Aidan agrees to the appointment before even checking his diary.

“All day?” Jimmy usually books Aidan for the entire day and takes him to all kinds of places. Once he managed to get them into the ocean walk tunnel at the Sealife Aquarium after closing, to have sex watched by fishes and sharks and certainly a few zookeepers.

They had gone paintballing together and acted out a war fantasy of a desperate near death scenario that became so real, just thinking about it still gives Aidan chills today. 

Jimmy keeps telling Aidan that he wants to show him the world, take him to Tangier and the Darjeeling Himalayan Railway and Spitsbergen. Realistically, they both know that most of these plans will forever remain dreams, Aidan appreciates the enthusiasm anyway. It makes _him_ feel wanted for a change.

“Afternoon. Open end. He will contact you with the details.” 

Aidan nods and with that, he is off the hook, or so he thinks, until Iago turns to the next page in his file.

“I haven’t received your certificate of health for this quarter yet.”

“I’m fine.” 

“And imagine how reassuring it would be to have your _opinion_ verified by a professional health care provider.”

Aidan sighs into his cup. He always uses condoms, he is always safe. 

_“Do it, come all over yourself.”_ He closes his eyes as the memory hits him unexpectedly. Hard, like a slap in the face, only better. Still unprofessional, though, and it annoys him to no end. He does allow clients to come on his body, but only if they ask for it and give Aidan the chance to decide. He doesn’t just let it happen because _he_ wants it, because he doesn’t. He doesn't want it! It isn’t professional.

“I will get it done before next week,” he promises through clenched teeth. He needs to get some air. “May I be excused?” 

“You mean you want to deprive us of your delightful hungover mumbling? I think I speak for all of us when I say we shall live.”

Aidan lets the insult slide and doesn’t bother to correct Iago. Letting him think that he is hanging is probably better than telling him that he has been losing sleep over a client.

 

He grabs his coat and pulls a pack of Benson and Hedges out of his pocket on his way out.

“Don’t go!” Jola rushes through the hall to pick up a parcel. “This came. Is for you.” She points at his name, written in neat letters next to Iago’s PO box address. It is not unusual, some clients prefer to send gifts rather than leave a tip. It is how Aidan got the black Tag Heuer chronograph he is wearing right now, his beloved leather jacket, the flight home to Ireland for Christmas and lots of gift cards.

“I wanted to bring, but I didn’t want to disturb,” Jola says apologetically.

“That’s okay. Thanks.” Aidan says and turns the package over. It is small, half the size of a shoebox, and there is no return address or sender’s name on it. 

As soon as he is out the door he lights up a cigarette and takes a long drag. Combined with the cool, damp January air, it helps clear his head. Just as he steps off the premises and onto the street, his phone vibrates in his pocket with a text from Iago.

“Threeway with Lenora and fem client. Park Plaza Hotel Westminster Bridge. Tom. 8pm.” 

He doesn’t do girls. He doesn’t understand them. He has witnessed, with his own eyes, how a girl fucked right through an orgasm only to have another one and that is creepy. He isn’t attracted to girls either. Sure, there are attractive girls out there, but by definition, they all have pussies and the thought of having to touch or kiss or lick one of them just makes him very reluctant. 

 

Iago is well aware of this and still made an appointment with not just one woman, but two. It is Aidan’s punishment for leaving early or wearing green or putting too much sugar in his coffee. With Iago, there is no pattern and there is simply no reasoning with him.

He texts back a simple “fine” and walks to the tube station at a brisk pace to get as far away from Iago’s mansion as he possibly can. If there were a bigger market for expensive male escorts in London he wouldn’t put up with the way his agent treats people, but for the time being it seems that he is the only one who can sell Aidan. Interviews with other agencies always feel a bit like auditioning for Britain’s Got Talent. 

You are a man? X. 

You don’t sleep with girls? X X. 

You charge how much? X X X. 

Yeah, thanks for coming out, but we are looking for something else right now.

Once he is on the tube, he pays attention to the package. Shaking it gently doesn’t produce any sound and there is no immediate smell, so he decides that it is safe to open on the train.

The brown packaging paper reveals a sleek black box that looks promising. He pops the lid open and peeks inside. He blinks confused and takes the lid off. In a nest of turquoise tissue paper sits a razor. A Gilette Venus for women in hot pink. He picks it up and turns it around. It is by far the most inappropriate and confusing gift he has ever received and that is including a diy kit to make a dildo out of a cast of his own penis.

“Someone’s trying to give you a hint, mate,” the guy across from him can hardly contain his amusement, but Aidan only scowls at him and is relieved that his change is coming up next.

 

The parcels keep coming after that. Over the next week, Aidan receives several packages – some of them inexplicably turn up wherever he happens to be. He even finds one at the grocery store and worries about being accused of shoplifting the entire time. 

“You’re joking!” Aidan almost spits his coffee back into the cup when he opens his latest gift. It is a pair of black glittery high heels. Very high high heels. He should have expected it, he thinks, after everything else. After the razor, it was a tube of red lipstick and some make up, then a long, curly wig. Fishnet stockings. Fingerless elbow-length gloves, a garter belt and black high-waisted briefs. Yesterday it was a beautiful handmade corset. The items all make sense together, Aidan just doesn’t understand what they have to do with him. 

He sits down on a kitchen stool and takes the shoes out of the box. They look deadly, but pushing the images of snapped ankles and torn tendons to the back of his mind, he puts them on. He is not sure if they fit - he gets his feet in, but they are so tight and uncomfortable that he cannot imagine anyone wanting to wear shoes like that just to look hot. 

Bravely, he edges off the stool and when he stands on his feet, he actually whimpers.

He can’t even say, what the worst part is, the pain from his squished up toes, the uncomfortable pressure on the balls of his feet, the unfamiliar bend of his ankles or the way they make him feel unstable and shaky.

He gives himself a moment to get used to the feeling. He has seen girls - stinking drunk girls - master shoes like these, so he assumes that it can be done. With the grace of a new-born giraffe standing up for the first time, he takes a few steps to the kitchen counter and back to the stool to sit down again. He heaves a sigh of relief and looks at his feet for a long while unsure what to do, since burning the shoes is not an option. It takes a while of pondering before he finally has a light bulb moment. He grabs his phone, types: “help!”, snaps a picture of his feet and sends it to his friend Adam, who left the escort business a while ago to focus on his career as a drag performer and to have a real relationship with his partner. 

“What did you do?” Adam replies and adds in a second message: “Wear socks. Walk, walk, walk. Come over tomorrow.”

The socks help a lot and since Aidan is always up for a challenge – though they traditionally involve alcohol - he starts walking up and down the hallway. Slowly at first with wobbling steps, but gradually growing more used to the shoes. They are still far from comfortable, but at least there is some improvement. He doesn’t even think about taking them off, when there is an angry knock on the door.

“Tell your fucking girlfriend to sit the fuck down or take off her fucking shoes!” It is the guy living in the flat below Aidan’s and he is livid, shouting as soon as Aidan opens the door. “I already complained to the landlord about the noise from your flat all the time and I swear I will do it aga…” He trails off, as his gaze travels down Aidan’s body and reaches his feet.

“Sure,” Aidan says, crossing his legs in a flirty way, while his face is the definition of innocence. “I’ll tell her to keep it down.”

“I’ll complain about this. There’re children living in this building, they shouldn’t have to be exposed to your disgusting lifestyle!” He turns to march away. “Fucking Mick. Fucking faggot.”

“At least I’m getting some!” Aidan slams the door shut and kicks off the shoes. He would like nothing better than to keep walking, just to annoy the offensive asshole, but he doesn’t actually want any trouble. With the exception of some, the neighbours in the building are quite nice. They are friendly and keep to themselves and don’t ask questions about the strange men that come and go at all hours.

 

There is another parcel waiting for him the next morning. This one is a slim emerald box with the words “London Pearls” stamped in, but when he opens it, it is empty. There is an envelope, however, and Aidan rips it open curiously. As much as he hates to admit it, the packages have caught his interest and he can hardly wait to find a new one every day.

“The pearl necklace I’ll give you tomorrow.”

Aidan laughs. He doesn’t need to check his diary to know that his appointment with Jimmy is tomorrow. It kind of makes him feel like an idiot, because the entire thing just screams Jimmy. The creativity and his love for dramatic gestures - it fits.

There is more inside the envelope. A small booklet that says “The Rocky Horror Painting Show – A Vernissage for Fearless Young Artists” on the cover and finally it all makes sense. Of course Aidan has seen the musical and the movie and now he recognizes all the different items as parts of Doctor Frank N. Furter’s costume. 

It makes him feel a lot better. No one expects any miracles from him, he is simply putting on a costume. He can do that. He is even looking forward to dressing up – except for the shoes which are still where he left them the day before - and see Jimmy’s reaction.

He flips through the booklet briefly. The vernissage offers some unknown young artist the opportunity to present their “edgy” and “daring” work to a bunch of VIPs – including Jimmy – at a themed party. Aidan skims the list of artists, but doesn’t recognize any of the names, which is probably where the “unknown artists” part comes in. Eva Mckenzie, Madeeha Ghunyah Quraishi, Ben Hinton, Dean O’Gorman and Conrad Goodbody. Aidan finds Conrad most interesting, simply because he wants to find out if he lives up to his name.

 

When Aidan calls at Adam’s house later that day, his boyfriend Graham opens the door. He is a wonderful man, who clearly loves Adam and has done incredible things for his self-confidence, but he has a way of looking at Aidan that makes him feel uneasy and makes him want to address Graham with “Sir”.

“Aidan. I haven’t seen you in a while. Come on in.” His words are warm and welcoming, but there is a look in his eyes that says “I’m watching you.”

They go through the mandatory small talk, before Aidan is allowed to climb up the ladder to the attic. The room has been transformed into Adam’s wardrobe and rehearsal space. 

Adam is in a sequined red gown, lip-syncing and dancing to the song “Fame” and Aidan cannot stop his jaw from dropping. Adam as a man is skinny and awkward, but in a dress he transforms into a completely different person. In all honesty, he was a good escort, but he would never have been great. He had a few regular clients who valued his company and were prepared to pay above his regular rate, but it was difficult for Adam to work with new clients, since he could come across as shy and timid and, let's be honest, weird. As a drag performer, however, he is magnificent. As he performs the song, there is energy and a desire that Aidan has never seen in him before. 

He does a few jumps and turns in a row, but stumbles on the last one and falls. Clearly frustrated he stays lying on the ground, while Irene Cara sings about how she is going to make it to heaven.

Graham, who has followed Aidan to the attic, turns off the music and kneels down at Adam’s side.

“I’m never going to get that part.”

“Yes, you are.” Graham picks Adam up easily. “You are going to master this part of the song and you are going to get the part in the show.”

Adam rests his forehead on Graham’s shoulder for a moment. Long enough for Aidan to feel like he is intruding. He should not be here to witness such a sweet moment and the honest display of affection makes him feel awkward.

“You’re right,” Adam says finally and gives his boyfriend a quick kiss before he lets go of him. “Thank you.”

“It’s what I’m here for.” He turns to leave with one more look at Aidan. Graham doesn’t trust Aidan to be alone with Adam. Of course he doesn’t. Aidan is, after all, still living the life of sex and money that Adam left to be with Graham and to graft for tips as a waiter - or waitress - in a drag bar in Central London. 

“It’s for an audition at the bar,” Adam explains, “one of the queens that actually get to go up on stage just quit and I want to get her job.”

“Wow. That is big.” Aidan is honestly impressed. He has seen the shows at the bar a couple of times, and they are incredible. “You’re going to be a big star.”

“I don’t have the job yet. And if I keep going like I am, there is no chance I’m going to get it.” Adam presses his hands to his chest. “But I really want it.”

“You’re gonna be grand.”

“I’m just a waitress.” There is a small pause. “But enough about that. How are you? How’s work?”

“You know me, I’m always good. Work is pretty much the same. But I did have sex on a ship today. In the toilet of one of those tourist boats.”

“Before lunch? You must be very popular.” Adam gives Aidan one of his lopsided smiles. “Looks like you are the one who’s becoming the big star.”

“Yeah, I’m going to be the star of the evening, if I don’t learn to walk in these shoes by tomorrow.” Aidan gives his bag a gloomy look.

“Let’s get that started,” Adam agrees. “Show me what you’ve got.”

It hurts a bit that Adam almost wets himself with laughter when Aidan shows him his walk, after he felt so good about it yesterday, but it is nothing a good-natured punch on the arm wouldn’t cure. 

They spend the next hour with Adam telling Aidan to put one foot in front of the other and to take smaller steps and move his hips. They keep practicing until Aidan’s feet just can’t take it anymore and he simply lies down on the floor.

“I don’t know how you do it,” he sighs, when Adam sits down next to him. “The shoes are torture!”

“The same way everybody does anything. You think about the money.” He smiles, when Graham’s head appears in the attic hatch. 

“I made you some tea.” Graham climbs through, with two mugs in his hand. “I thought you might need it.”

“Or the man you’re doing it for,” Adam finishes and looks at Graham like he has fallen in love with him a little more since he last saw him an hour ago.

While Aidan definitely isn’t _in love_ with Jimmy, he feels some kind of love for him or else he wouldn’t go through all this trouble, so maybe there is some truth in it. He sits up to take his cup and once again watches the way Adam and Graham interact with each other. The way Graham straightens Adam’s glasses after a kiss or the playful tug on Graham’s beard after he makes a comment on something, and he cannot help noticing the smitten expression on Adam’s face, when he sits down again.

“It must be nice,” Aidan says thoughtfully, “to have someone to make the tea and just… have around.”

“The word you are looking for is relationship,” Adam suggests but Aidan isn’t convinced. What Adam and Graham have might be a little bit too sweet, but it doesn’t seem like hard work at all. And relationships are definitely hard and frustrating and confining and just too damn painful in the end. He thinks. He never really tried.

“Oh, no. Now you’re making the face. Don’t make the face.” Adam nudges Aidan with his big toe. “Let’s see if we can’t find you some boobs to cheer you up.”


	3. Have you any idea how hard this is?

“Well, ’ello there, Sweetheart. How much for an hour?”

Can’t a man stand around on a street corner in fishnet stockings on a freezing cold, drizzly February evening without people thinking he is a prostitute? Well, technically, in this case they would be right, but that is hardly the point. Aidan digs his hands deeper into the pockets of his leather jacket before he turns around. 

“Sorry, mate, I’m not… Jimmy!” His frown instantly turns into a smile, when he recognises the other man. He slaps him playfully on the chest with his purse. “That was rude.”

Aidan gives Jimmy a hug and a kiss on the cheek.

“Thank you for doing this.”

“You know I would do almost anything for you.” Aidan emphasises the word “almost” and uses his thumb to remove his lipstick from Jimmy’s face. 

“Let’s go in, you must be freezing your balls off.” 

“My balls are fine,” Aidan replies. Honestly. They are sitting nice and cosy in a cavity inside his body, a concept he still finds hard to grasp. Luckily Adam had been there this afternoon to help Aidan put his make up on, lace the corset and teach the dreaded tuck in a very hands-on approach. It is somewhat unpleasant, but not nearly as painful as Aidan would have thought. The tape holding everything in place is much more uncomfortable than the actual tuck itself.

The art gallery is a dark place with black walls. The lighting is minimalistic, with only spotlights illuminating the artwork. There are others in costume. Aidan can spot one other Frank N. Further straightaway, and there are several Magenta and Columbia costumes and the one obligatory man in nothing but golden hot pants who really can’t pull off the look.

“So, how does it feel?” Jimmy asks and hands Aidan a black drink in a Martini glass. “To be the most beautiful person in the room.”

He knows it is a massive overstatement. Even though Adam had told him that he looks great, all he sees when he looks in the mirror is a man with boobs wearing make up. Strictly speaking, Frank never even wore boobs or padding, but that is what you get when you let a drag queen help you…

“I don’t know about that. Have you seen Rocky over there?”

“That’s Ewan. If you ever consider changing your career and going into television, you should wave and smile now, because he is the one who can make that happen.” 

Aidan does. Not that he has any plans to become an actor, but it never hurts to be friendly. The man nods back benevolently. He has a woman by his side, who is definitely not his wife and definitely paid handsomely to be here. She is very discreet, nothing about her would scream escort to the casual observer, but Aidan can tell anyway. It’s the designer dress and jewellery. It’s the way she brushes her hair over her shoulder to expose her neck to him. Aidan steals that move from her and is almost instantly rewarded with Jimmy’s hand on the small of his back that says “he belongs with me”. Aidan likes a possessive streak in a client. It makes him feel special.

Sipping his cherry-flavoured drink, he follows Jimmy around the gallery. His client seems to know pretty much everyone and gets pulled into conversations left and right. It makes Aidan wonder once again what Jimmy does for a living. He doesn’t know if he is married or has children or a dog or his favourite colour and he has no desire to find out. He knows other things about Jimmy, things very few others do. He knows that Jimmy loves to play around the line of consent, that he loves roleplay that involves elaborate planning and he knows the face he makes, when he comes. That he likes to sing in the shower and his go to song is Bohemian Rhapsody and that he doesn’t expect Aidan to do the second voice. The little details Aidan learned over time that make Jimmy more than just another client.

While Jimmy is engaged into another conversation, Aidan uses the time to look at the art. It is mostly paintings, some photographs and a few art installations. The overall tone is dark and broody and fits the theme, but there is nothing Aidan can picture hanging in his home. He can’t imagine why anyone would want to have a painting of a naked woman on an altar about to be raped by a large blue spider.

Fortunately, Jimmy takes Aidan into the next room, where the art is much more accessible and Aidan finds its realism much more frightening than the graphic pictures he has seen before. There is one of a woman in a white dress, about to walk into a foaming ocean. Another one of a man sitting on the stairs in front of a house, his head in his hands and the sketchy ghost of a woman hugging him. A child playing alone on a football field in the rain, glowing eyes watching from the windows of the buildings towering around the playground. It’s unsettling, but most of all melancholic and lonely.

He is particularly intrigued by a set of three paintings. The first one is all red and orange and shows a woman with horns and a devil’s tail, poorly hidden by her lacy underwear. She walks away from the viewer, but is looking back over her shoulder with a smirk. In her spiked boots she casually steps over what appears to be a human heart on the ground.

 _“Three years and six months”, Dean O’Gorman, 2014, Oil on Canvas_ , says the label next to the picture.

The next one is kept in cool shades of blue. It shows an angel, but his wings are broken and a good amount of feathers has been ripped out. He looks very much like a cat in front of a goldfish bowl, while he studies the heart he has in his hand. There is a messy bed in the background that is covered in feathers and blood.

_“You’ll have it back in an hour”, Dean O’Gorman, 2014, Oil on Canvas_

The third shows another man, blond this time, but his face is hidden. He is squeezing the damaged heart back into his empty chest, while trying to sew up the gaping hole with the other hand.

_“This won’t take a second”, Dean O’Gorman, 2014, Oil on Canvas_

“That could be you.” Jimmy takes the empty glass from Aidan and gives him a new drink. He points at the blue picture. 

“Nah, I’m not an angel,” Aidan replies with the most innocent smile he can muster. It is true, there are some similarities between himself and the man in the painting – most obviously the messy hair. “You should know that.”

“But you play with people’s hearts for a while.”

“That’s not true!” Aidan protests. He turns around and wraps his free hand around the back of Jimmy’s neck. He looks at him with a suggestive glint in his eye. “I only play with… other parts of their bodies.”

“Well then I can’t wait to join in on the fun.” Jimmy pulls Aidan closer by the hips a little too enthusiastically, causing him to bump his drink into the guy walking by.

“Sorry, about that. Did I get any on you?”

“Nah, it’s okay, you missed.” Jimmy’s hand squeezing his arse or not, the man instantly has all of Aidan’s attention. He knows the voice. The accent is one you don’t hear very often, but Aidan has encountered recently. 

“Dean?” Aidan’s heart skips a beat, when he recognizes the other man and he can feel a goofy smile starting to spread on his face. He thought he would never see him again, certainly not at some random art gallery.

He looks just as good as Aidan remembers, if possible, maybe even a little better, in a grey sports coat with a blue and grey check shirt underneath and fashionably faded and distressed jeans.

“Uhhh, I’m sorry…” Dean’s eyes narrow as he struggles to put a name to the face. For a second Aidan thinks that Dean wants to pretend not to know him. He reckons that Dean is embarrassed to be approached by an escort, but then he can practically see the light bulb above Dean’s head. His eyes widen and he takes a step back to take in the whole picture. “Aidan! Oh my God! I didn’t even recognize you. Nice rack.”

“These aren’t mine.” Aidan uses his hands to self-consciously cover the silicone breasts that are stuck to his chest. He was fine as long as it was just Jimmy and a bunch of strangers seeing him like this, but he doesn’t want Dean to think that he is some kind of weirdo who dresses like this and thinks he actually looks good.

“He’s just holding them for a friend,” Jimmy quips, joining their conversation. 

“Jimmy, this is Dean. Dean, this is my, uhm, friend Jimmy.” Aidan never had to introduce his clients to one another and he finds it extremely awkward. 

“Not the friends with the boobs, though,” Jimmy laughs and dissolves the tension with his joke. He is just a natural at making everyone around him feel at ease. "I'll let you two catch up and check if they have any real drinks."

“Are you sure?” Aidan asks to be polite but he is relieved when Jimmy makes his way through the crowd towards the bar. There is a strong possibility that Jimmy might frown upon his attempts to flirt with Dean, while he is the one paying for his company.

“So, what are you doing here? And are you as bored with this as I am?”

“Oh, yeah, I'm definitely bored, but I sort of had to come.” Dean shrugs his shoulders. “I guess people expect you to come when they put your pictures in their gallery.”

“Your pictures?” Aidan looks from the paintings on the wall back to Dean. “These are yours? Your name is O'Gorman!” He feels like a complete idiot for taking so long to figure it out, but Dean laughs and nods.

“It is.”

There is a moment of silence while Aidan lets his eyes wander over the paintings once more.

“Look, shit! I'm sorry. When I said I was bored I didn't mean...” He gestures towards Dean's work.

“Relax. It's fine.” Dean gives Aidan another one of his dimpled smiles. “To be honest, I could do without all of this.”

Aidan is incredibly tempted to suggest that the two of them just get out of here, get a coffee somewhere and talk, but he can't do that. He's is with Jimmy and Dean is a client who might want to book him again sometime. Spending time with each other outside the clearly defined roles as escort and customer would only make things very complicated.

“So, is painting just a hobby or do you do it for a living?

“It doesn't quite pay the rent,” Dean admits with a sigh. “So I do photography on the side. You know, weddings, parties, family pictures and heaps of baby photos.”

“That sounds like fun,” Aidan says, leaving out the sarcasm that tries to get in, because he is honestly interested now. “Do you do something like portfolios as well?”

“You mean, like a model portfolio?”

“I wouldn't say model exactly. I wanted to update my website with new pictures for ages, but I just never seem to get around to it.” It is perfect. First off all, because it is the truth. The images on his internet profile are almost two years old and it is a convenient excuse to spend some time with Dean without any kind of pressure. “I really just need a couple of shots of me in my underwear.”

“I'd love to!” Dean replies and Aidan loves the enthusiasm in his voice. “As long as you promise not to cry if there are roses that are the wrong colour or spit up on me.”

“I don't know if I can make that promise. I get very emotional when it comes to flowers. But on the plus side, I’m not much of an up-chucker.” 

“Thanks for the info,” Dean says dryly. “I guess I'll have to take my chances on the flowers, though. Or skip them.” He reaches into the inside pocket of his coat and hands Aidan his card. Their fingers brush against each other and Aidan thinks he sees Dean’s lip twitch up just a tiny bit at the contact. “Just give me a call and we'll set up a meeting.”

“Cool.” Aidan searches his leather jacket for a safe place to make absolutely sure he won't lose the card, when he notices that Dean keeps watching him and smiles a bit unsure. “What is it?”

“Nothing. I am just picturing you on the beach.”

Aidan tilts his head to the side with a frown. He doesn't really know how to respond, but judging from the way Dean covers his eyes with both hands, he didn't intend to say it.

“I am such a moron. I meant a photo shoot on the beach. In the winter, with a dramatic sky and wind and waves. You would look really good.”

“Would that be before or after I die from exposure?” He knows that it is ironic coming from someone who is walking around with, his lower half basically naked, but at least he is indoors for this.

“Okay, maybe it’s not ideal, but there is this gorgeous beach up north, near Newcastle. I went there just before Christmas and I've wanted to go back and take pictures ever since.”

“Newcastle? That is, what, a four hour drive?” He sounds sceptical, but on the inside he is jumping up and down and clapping his hands, because that’s how much he wants it. He wants to be in a car with Dean for hours and see this beautiful beach. And if he has to get naked in a snowstorm for that, he will.

“It's really worth...” Dean is interrupted by a man coming up to them. “You’re still here! I thought you shot through.”

“As if I would leave you alone with all these fabulous guys.” While he seizes Aidan up, he interlocks his fingers with Dean's. He is gorgeous, fit and very sharply dressed. And he is holding Dean’s hand! A just couple of weeks ago Dean wasn’t even sure if he was gay and now he is dating such a dreamboat? It hardly seems fair!

Then again, why wouldn’t Dean be dating? He is attractive and sweet and just out of the closet, with all the possibilities that come with that and most of all _not_ pining for Aidan. He clearly understood the nature of their relationship and its inevitable ending, while Aidan allowed himself to get too absorbed in the idea that Dean might have liked him as well. He knows that the thought itself is ridiculous - he is a prostitute and this isn’t Pretty Woman, but it aches nonetheless.

“It is nice to meet one of your friends, Dean.” The guy says end extends his hand, which Aidan takes reluctantly. “Luke.”

“Aidan.” He subconsciously wipes his hand on his jacket. “But we’re not friends. We have more of a work-relationship.” It hurts to say it and he can see that he got Dean with the comment as well, and he is sorry about it, but he needs to do this to remind himself that Dean is not for him. He buries his hands into his pockets so no one can see his nails digging into his palms. “Actually, I have to go, so I’ll see you around.”

He doesn’t wait for a response. He turns and prays that he doesn’t stumble in his heels until he is out of sight. He almost makes it, before a hand grabs his arm.

“Are you okay?” Dean sounds concerned which makes everything so much worse. He isn’t supposed to care.

“Yeah, sure. Absolutely fine.” Aidan tries to smile convincingly. “Why do you ask?”

“I don’t know.” Dean scratches the back of his head uncomfortably. “That was a little cold, back there.”

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to offend you or your boyfriend.”

Dean stares at Aidan for an unsettling long moment before he speaks again, choosing his words very carefully.

“Okay, I have to ask, just because I think I am reading too much into this. Please don’t take it the wrong way, but… are you jealous?”

Aidan’s mouth opens and closes again at the sheer bluntness of the question. Exactly how many ways were there to take a question like that?

“Jealous? No. God no!” It sounds fake even to his own ears. “You got that totally arseways. I’m happy for you. I just… I… My feet really hurt and I desperately need a cigarette.”

“Luke and I, we’ve only been on a few dates,” Dean says under his breath.

“I’m very happy for you,” Aidan repeats and this time he really tries to mean it and it comes across a little better.

“Will you call me? About the photos?” 

“Of course I will!” Aidan can’t stop himself from pulling Dean into a hug that lasts a little longer than it should have. Dean pulls his head away from Aidan’s shoulder after a moment and looks up at him. His hand brushes up Aidan’s arm, over his shoulder to cup his cheek. Aidan knows what Dean is up to and he desperately wants it too, but he moves away, shaking his head in defeat. He can’t have this. 

“I can’t do this to you,” he whispers. “We both know the rules. If you want to be with me, you have to…” It is almost impossible to get the words out, but he has to say it. He has to break whatever there is or was or might have been, because it just wouldn’t work out. Aidan has to put his job first, always. “You have to pay for me.”

“I understand.” Dean takes several steps back. “I should go back. People want to talk to me about the paintings, you know?”

Aidan nods slowly and turns away so he doesn’t have to watch Dean leave. He wanders around the gallery until he finds the toilets. He doesn’t feel like crossing the entire space again and likely bump into Dean, or worse, Luke, to get out onto the street and wonders if he has sunk low enough to lock himself in the toilet for a smoke. He decides that, yes, he has sunk that low and is about to go in and check for smoke detectors, when a backdoor opens. One of the waiters sneaks in from outside where he clearly enjoyed a “herbal” cigarette, judging from the sweet smoky smell wafting from his clothes and the guilty look on his face. He doesn’t lock the door and once he is gone, Aidan seizes the opportunity to escape.

The alley behind the building has tall walls on three sides and is blocked off from the street by a wire mesh fence. There are a couple of large bins and a scruffy looking black cat, going through them. The light rain from earlier has turned into tiny snowflakes that dust the ground. The waiter has left a few chair cushions, stacked on top of each other on the stairs, which Aidan uses gladly to get of his feet for a while and draws his almost naked legs as close to his chest as possible.

He fishes Dean’s card out of his jacket and stares at it, turns it over and stares some more. Dean’s name, his phone number, his address are right there on the card and Aidan knows that the only reasonable thing is to throw it away right now. Dust himself off and forget about Dean, but he can’t. 

His moment of quiet solitude doesn’t last long. After only a few minutes, the door opens and Jimmy steps out onto the stairs.

“There you are! I’ve been looking all over for you.”

“Sorry,” Aidan says, but Jimmy doesn’t seem to be angry, just amused. “It’s an addiction.”

“I should apologise to you. I barely paid any attention to you tonight.” He takes the last drag of Aidan’s cigarette and flicks the bud in the direction of the bins. “I should rectify that.”

“You don’t have to…” Aidan starts, but Jimmy interrupts him by pulling him to his feet again.

“Have to,” he laughs. “ _Have to!_ Sometimes I think you don’t even realize how much I adore you.” He pushes Aidan gently against the wall. “How much I want you.”

Aidan lets his head drop against the wall. This is how it should be, uncomplicated and easy. Want and have, with none of the weird grey areas of maybe and shouldn’t and insecurity. You can dress it up in a costume or add toys and stories, but the basic concept remains the same. Two people with the same agenda.

“Wait,” Aidan catches Jimmy’s hands before his fingers can pull his briefs down. “We can’t do this right now. There is a lot of tape down there.” He shifts a little uncomfortably, because he really doesn’t want Jimmy to see the mess he made trying to keep the tuck in place. It is not cute.

Jimmy gives him a little kiss and a smirk, before he kneels down and pulls Aidan’s pants down slowly, making him squirm just a little. It is scary to let someone else take control, even someone he knows he can trust. He has to stay in control, even when he is tied to a bed, because in the end that is all he has to protect himself.

“I see you shiver. Antici-” Jimmy teases and leisurely runs his thumb over the edge between skin and tape. “-pation?”

“Some. And it’s fucking freezing as well.”

“Then we should hurry.”

“Yeah,” Aidan agrees wholeheartedly and with chattering teeth. He has been outside, barely dressed for too long. “Just don’t rip off the tape. Please.”

Jimmy’s face scrunches up in sympathy at the thought and he starts peeling it off very carefully. It still burns, but it helps that Jimmy kisses every bit of skin he exposes.

With the tape gone Aidan feels a lot more like himself and actually starts to enjoy the blowjob Jimmy is giving him. What the older man lacks in skill and technique, he makes up for in enthusiasm. He bobs his head back and forth eagerly.

“Yes, that’s it,” Aidan breathes. “That’s so good.” He keeps throwing in encouraging moans and yeah’s until Jimmy pulls away.

“Are you close?” he asks.

“Uh-huh.” Aidan twists his fingers into Jimmy’s hair. 

“Do you want to come for me?”

“I do.”

“All right then,” Jimmy says and there is an unsettling glee in his voice. He gets up from the ground and pulls Aidan’s shorts up in the process. “That was the preview. I have a lot more planned for you today.”

“Oh, come on! Please.” He is aware that he is whining like a little girl, but to leave him hanging like this is just mean. “Please, just a little more.” He cups Jimmy’s chin and looks deep into his eyes. “I’ll make it up to you.”

“Tempting, but not good enough.” Jimmy takes Aidan’s hand. “Come on now, let’s go.”

Aidan doesn’t know if he wants to cover his face or his raging hard on with his purse, as Jimmy makes him walk through the entire gallery. 

“You are a sadistic bastard,” he complains, once they are outside and Jimmy is waving for a cab.

“That’s why you love me, darling.”

Aidan tries to be mad just a bit longer, but he can’t, because Jimmy is right. He honestly likes his messed up ideas of fun.


	4. There is no "I" in Success

It is nine o'clock on the dot, when Aidan hears the door-lock click and just like punching it at a factory, his shift starts. The all-nighter. For ten hours he belongs to the client and walks away with more money than most people make in a month. 

As instructed by the client, he is wearing a school uniform, which can make the evening go two ways. Either, he has been a naughty boy and needs to be spanked and fucked over the desk by the strict headmaster or he is failing a class and needs to convince his teacher to re-evaluate him with an enthusiastic blowjob and probably by getting fucked over the desk and spanked as well. He has never met the client before, but the fetish is always the same. He knows exactly what to expect. 

“Daddy's ho...” The middle-aged man standing in the doorway stops dead in his tracks after taking one look at Aidan. He is heavyset, with thinning hair and heavy eyebrows and the unhealthy, tired look of someone who is heading towards stress related heart disease. 

“No,” he barks. “This is unacceptable!” The bright smile on Aidan's face falters. This was very much the opposite of what he thought would happen. 

“Wait,” he says, when the man turns around to leave. He catches the client's arm just in time to stop him. He is not going to be rejected like this. It's insulting! 

“Hi,” he tilts his head to the side and bites his bottom lip. “What's wrong?” 

“This is completely unacceptable,” the man says again, his voice rising and his head turning a darker shade of red as he speaks. “I asked for someone young. Not... you.” 

Aidan's lip twitches, but he manages to keep a forced smile. He has been called a lot of things, a whore, a slut, a cocksucking son of a bitch and his all-time favourite, a sack of Irish sheep shit, but he has never been called old. Aidan would leave right now, but February has been kind of slow, work-wise, and while he has savings, he really doesn’t want to walk away from a pile of cash, so he carefully puts the cheese in the trap. 

“But Daddy,” he whines and wraps his other hand around the man's arm. “I was looking forward to spending time with you.” 

The man's eyes narrow slightly, but he allows Aidan to pull him into the room and close the door. 

“I’m going to complain about you,” he says. “I was very specific about what I wanted.” 

“I understand,” Aidan says and he honestly does. He wasn't told about any requests the client had, despite the uniform. He could have done more to appear more youthful. He could have shaved. He could have waxed his chest! He lowers his head and wrings his hands behind his back bashfully. If he wants to get paid tonight, he needs to commit to the act. More Daddy-kink and less schoolboy fetish, but it is a game that Aidan can play. “I'm sorry, please don't be mad at me, Daddy.”

The man gives him another long, contemplating look before pulling out his wallet. He counts out fifty Pound note after fifty Pound note slowly as he places them on the desk. He stops at 26 and shoves his significantly slimmer wallet back into the pocket of his suit. 

“That is not what we agreed,” Aidan says, not unfriendly, but in a tone that suggests that he is serious. His rate is 1,500 Pounds, non-negotiable. 

“You’re not what I wanted. I’m not paying the full amount.” 

“Then I walk.” 

“Fine. Feel free.” The man shrugs his shoulders and gestures towards the door. 

He should go. He can't let a client treat him like this. But there are 1,300 quid on the table, just waiting for him to swallow his pride and pick them up. Even after Iago takes his cut, it is still a lot of money. He shifts from one leg to the other uncomfortably, scratches the back of his neck and then steps forward to take the money. 

“That's a good boy,” says the man with malicious joy. “Now, take off your clothes and sit on the bed. I've got a present for you.” 

The present, as it turns out, is a large teddy bear. Cream coloured with a sweet face and floppy paws. It is difficult to get back into character after the unpleasant start, but Aidan puts the smile back on his face, determined to make this a good night. He can convince this client that he is worth every penny. 

He climbs onto the middle of the bed, so that the man can see him and hugs the bear to his chest.

“Thank you, Daddy. He's so cuddly!” 

“Why don't you give him a kiss,” the client asks and Aidan quickly presses his lips to the bear's nose. 

“Do I get a kiss now?” He spreads his legs invitingly, but the man sits down on the sofa instead of coming over. 

“We do that later. For now, I want you to touch the bear.” 

The man tells Aidan to talk dirty about the teddy and to touch himself as he does, while he sits there with his hands down his trousers and observes. 

A lot of blokes like to watch for a bit to get started. It’s their own live version of porn, where they get to decide what happens next. It’s not unusual and generally Aidan is more than happy to put on a show, but today he is struggling. The way the client directs him onto his hands and knees and asks him to rub his cock against the bear is humiliating and disturbing and, plainly, it feels wrong. He grits his teeth, thinks about the cash and when the man tells him to finish on the bear, he manages barely with a choked “Daddy”. 

The client gets up and walks over to the bed, the red head of his erection jutting from his trousers. He runs his hands down Aidan's back almost affectionately, but then spanks him. Two hard slaps on his rear. 

“The mess you've made,” he sighs with a disapproving tone. “Such a filthy boy. I'd say it's time for a bath. We get you all cleaned up before someone else sees what you did.” 

“Okay,” Aidan replies and doesn't even have to act like he is ashamed of himself. Intellectually, he knows that age play is not linked to paedophilia, but he cannot help thinking that the client would be much happier if there was an actual young boy taking his place. It mortifies him and he honestly doubts that he can keep this up for the next nine hours. 

Aidan takes pride in his professionalism and doesn't judge clients for their fantasies. Sure, some fetishes are more pleasant than others; getting his toes sucked for an hour is much more enjoyable than deep-throating someone who has no concept of how a gag-reflex works. Still, he likes to think of himself as the kind of guy that he gives everything a go at least once and for everything else, there is a page on his website listing the things he won't do. Most clients are also well aware that their ideas might not appeal to everyone and ask before they make a booking. Most clients do but, sadly, not all of them bother. Some really seem to think of a prostitute as nothing more than a warm hole.

In his entire career, he only stopped very few sessions halfway through and it was usually for health and safety reasons, not because of a fetish he couldn't handle. There was one occasion where a client spiked his drink with GBL. Why anyone would give a date rape drug to a prostitute is still a mystery to Aidan. He never had the chance to ask the guy - or punch him in the face. Strangely, he didn't stick around after he realized that he completely overdosed. Luckily Aidan managed to call for help. Otherwise he probably wouldn’t be around anymore.

He had stopped working for a while after that, always following the news, hoping to hear that the guy had been caught. The news never came, he could still be out there, drugging men or women. He could even book Aidan again without a problem, because Aidan has no recollection of that night besides what the doctors and police told him, and doesn't even remember what the man looked like. 

But the temporary job Aidan had taken, waiting tables at a café, flirting with tourists for tips bored him to tears and it was only a matter of time before he went back to what he truly loved. 

“Come on, now, boy, the bath is ready.” Aidan thinks one more time about cutting the appointment short and leaving, but he has come this far and the guy looks like he might fall asleep after one really hard orgasm, so Aidan climbs off the bed reluctantly to join the client in the bathroom.

 

At one minute past seven, Aidan is out of the hotel. He walks a few blocks before sitting down on the stone wall in front of a pub to light a cigarette. Every all-nighter ends with morning sex, that is a given, this one was another threesome between Aidan, the client and the teddy. 

Common courtesy dictates that the client treats the escort to breakfast after spending the night. It wasn't offered and Aidan would have declined had it been. Not only was the client into age play, he was also obsessed with youth and beauty in general and kept telling Aidan that he looked old, used, common and overall repulsive. He complained about the dark circles under Aidan's eyes and everything else he could think of. It was pretty rich coming from a bloke who looked like Susan Boyle pre-makeover, who was simply throwing a tantrum because he didn’t get what he wanted. It had undermined Aidan's self-esteem anyway and he caught himself staring at his reflection in the mirror inside the lift dissentingly on the way down. 

Overwhelmed with the need to talk to someone friendly, Aidan pulls out his phone. He briefly considers calling his parents, who might actually be up at seven on a Saturday, but decides against it. They are from the generation of Irish Catholics that still gets tense when sex is discussed in the open and even years after his official coming out, they still seem to hope that “Mam, Dad,... I think I might be gay” was a misunderstanding somehow. They try, however, and Aidan appreciates their efforts. It still doesn't mean that he can tell them that he had a bad experience with a client, when, actually, they don't even know that he has clients at all. He never had the heart to tell his parents that he sells his company - and orifices - to strangers.

 

He tries Adam, but the call goes straight to voicemail and Iago after that. If he can't find someone to talk to, he wants to complain at least, but even that is impossible with Iago not answering his phone either. 

“Thanks for the heads up about the tosser,” he types and hits send. He really asks himself what Iago does all day, because screening clients clearly isn't it. 

He gets up from the wall and starts walking again. He doesn't feel like going home, being alone in his flat to go over the experience in his head again and again. He doesn’t know how this man managed to get under his skin and upset him as much as he did, but not being able to talk to anyone only makes Aidan feel worse about it, as if somehow everyone ganged up on him. 

He scrolls through his contacts listlessly until a name catches his eye and he presses “dial” without giving it too much thought and talking himself out of it. He promised Dean to call him about an appointment to take new pictures for the website. It is a brilliant excuse to hear Dean’s voice again and a photographer has to make him look his best. It is his job. It is perfect.

 

“Hmmm?” 

“Ah, shit!” Aidan cringes at the sleepy sounds coming from the other end of the line. Okay, so “perfect” may have been a bit of an overstatement. “Sorry. I didn't mean to wake you. Sorry.”

“Wha',” Dean asks and Aidan can hear the creaking of bed springs and the rustling of duvets and pillows. “Who is this?” 

“Uh, it's Aidan,” he says. “I'm really sorry. I call back later.” He hangs up and leans against an advertising column. He feels like crap, he didn’t get any sleep, because he never sleeps when he is with a client and on top of that he can never call Dean ever again, but as it turns out, he doesn’t have to. His phone vibrates in his hand with Dean’s name on the screen. 

“I’m so, so sorry. I wasn’t thinking.”

“It's fine. I'm up.” Dean doesn't sound thrilled, but at least he didn't tell him to fuck off straight away so he takes that as a small win. That doesn’t mean that he knows what to say now. The plan in his head got kind of screwed up. “Shit, are you okay?” 

There is real concern in Dean's voice now and Aidan realises that he should say something at least.

“Yeah. I'm okay. It's fine. I just, I can't go home right now.” He babbles and cringes again. That sounded a lot less dramatic in his head. “What I'm trying to say is, I need to kill some time and I was wondering if you would like to meet somewhere for breakfast and talk about the photos? For my website.” 

He fights the impulse to apologise again for the word diarrhoea that comes out of his mouth. He can be so smooth and sell ice to an Eskimo, but not today. Not when he hasn't slept and has been insulted and humiliated and Dean sounds invitingly sleepy and makes Aidan want to crawl into bed with him. Just to sleep, nothing else.

“Who is it?” There is a voice in the background that makes the fantasy bubble in Aidan's head pop. Why would Dean be alone? That was a silly assumption, really. 

“Hang on,” Dean says to Aidan and then speaks to the other man. “It's Aidan, we met him at the gallery, remember? I think he...” 

Aidan can't hear the next part, only more rustling.

“Yeah, Aidan? Why don't you come over for breakfast? I can show you some samples of my work and we can discuss what you are looking for.” 

“Are you sure? I don't want to intrude. I'm sure you have better things to do.” Aidan mentally slaps himself. Is he really trying to talk Dean out of it? 

“I'll text you the address.” There is an amused tone in Dean's voice that makes Aidan smile as well. 

 

Dean lives a short walk away from Shepard's Bush station in a typical Victorian terraced house at the end of a quiet cul-de-sac, just off the main road. It is built in brown brick with white window frames and a purple door. 

Aidan approaches it hesitatingly. He still feels like he has no business being here and even though Dean didn’t say anything on the phone, Aidan sure remembers how they left things at the gallery.

He knocks anyway and Dean opens the door, before he can change his mind and run. He is dressed in faded, paint-stained jeans and a rather tight fitting jumper. He looks great and happy and not at all like someone holding a grudge. 

“It's good to see you again!” Dean pulls Aidan into a hug before inviting him into his home. The front door leads immediately into the living area, a cosy room, with mismatched furniture. One wall is painted in bright orange and decorated from floor to ceiling with canvas paintings and photographs. There are piles of hot-pink fabric on a minty-green sofa and books stacked on top of each other, so high, that one would need to stand on a chair to get the one on top. A tacky, golden lucky cat is sitting on a shelf next to a beautiful Venetian mask and a turquoise chandelier covered in strands of coloured glass beads. There is no logical explanation and nothing that connects the items or styles.

Aidan thinks that he could spend an hour in this room and he still wouldn't have discovered everything there is to see. He would love to try it anyway. There is a smell of oil paint and scented candles in the air. 

“I have a flatmate,” Dean clarifies and Aidan has a feeling that he does that often. “So it's not all me. As a general rule, everything that is pink or flowery is hers.” 

“It's great,” Aidan says honestly. He walks over to the orange wall to have a closer look at the photos. Some look very professional, others are snapshots of friends hanging out. There are several beautiful, artistic black and white shots of a blond woman and another one, in which Dean has his arms around her kissing her head. There are Chinese lanterns in the background and it looks like it has been taken at a wedding. 

“Was she your girlfriend?” Aidan asks cautiously. He remembers the painting from the gallery and thinks that the devil-woman might be this girl. Dean replies with “hm”. 

“What happened?” This woman made Dean change his sexual identity in his mid-thirties. There has got to be a story. There is a pause long enough for Aidan to want to apologise and drop it, but then Dean takes a deep breath. 

“We were together for a few years and, like everybody, started to have problems. Fights over stupid little things to whether or not we wanted kids. My solution was to ask her to marry me. Her solution was to have an affair with my best mate.” 

“Aww, shit.” Aidan feels honestly bad for bringing it up. He is really not in form today. “Sorry.” 

“I was pretty messed up after that. I mean, I left the country just to get away from them, that should tell you something. But I gained some perspective and it wasn't only her fault. I wanted things she couldn't give me.” 

“Like cock,” Aidan asks and is glad to see Dean smile. 

“Including, but not limited to cock,” he agrees. “Have a seat. I'll just go and make coffee and get a couple of things.” 

“Oh, here.” Aidan hands Dean the Tesco's plastic bag he brought. He stopped at a Tesco's on his way to buy some fruit, so he didn't show up empty handed. 

“Cool. Thanks.” 

“Thanks for having me.” Aidan sits down on the sofa and checks his phone one more time. No response to his text yet. He sets the phone down on the table, ready to pick it up, should Iago ever decide to get back to him. 

“Hey, is it okay if Luke joins us?” Dean pokes his head around from the kitchen. Aidan forces a smile. Of course it was Dean’s dreamboat boyfriend he heard in the background.

“Sure,” he says and lets his head fall against the back of the couch. “That'd be grand.” He closes his eyes for a moment. He just can't win today...

 

“Aidan?” Someone is gently shaking his shoulder. “Aidan.”

He doesn't want to wake up. He is cosy and comfortable and... there is a man with him. He fell asleep with a client! Within seconds he is fully awake and sitting up. The blanket that has been draped over him falls into his lap.

“Sorry. I'm up, I was just...” His eyes land on Dean, kneeling next to the sofa and he relaxes a little. Not a client, then, but still incredibly rude and embarrassing. “...tired.”

“It's okay.” Dean smiles at him reassuringly. “I really didn't want to wake you. You looked so...”

“If the next words are old or disgusting,” Aidan makes a shushing gesture.

“I was going to say exhausted.”

“Oh.” Aidan runs a hand through his hair, but gives up when his fingers get caught in a mess of tangled curls. “I guess that makes us even. I woke you, you woke me.”

Dean laughs at that and reaches for Aidan’s mobile on the coffee table.

“Well, like I said I wanted to let you sleep, but your phone has been buzzing pretty much nonstop for two hours or so.”

Aidan takes it and looks at the screen. It’s noon and he has twelve missed calls from Iago, four calls and five texts from Adam. Not bad. He opens the messages first. 

“What's up?”, “Aid?”, “You okay?”, “You don't call someone in the middle of the night and disappear!” and finally “Aiiiiidaaaaaaan?!”

He can picture Adam freaking out about the missed call, probably picturing Aidan dead already. He texts back, assuring that he is okay and that he will call later. Just when he hits send, Iago calls again.

“Sorry, I have to take this,” he tells Dean, who has enough tact to disappear into the kitchen. Aidan braces himself for whatever is coming. With Iago he just never knows if it’s going to be yelling or disappointment or a really weird hissing thing he sometimes does when he is really angry.

“Aidan, can you explain to me,” Iago says in his “surrounded by idiots” voice, “why I am currently spending my valuable time calming down your latest client?”

Aidan can’t believe that the guy actually called to complain! The nerve of him! 

“Yes, I can.” _The client asked me to do things I wasn’t comfortable doing. He was disrespectful and refused to pay the agreed amount fully and even though I performed my tasks with the necessary professionalism and expected enthusiasm, I was unable to make a connection with the client_ , is what he should have said. “He’s a fucking arsehole!” 

“I am going to pretend that you did not just say that. He told me that you were sullen and made no effort to...” Aidan can hear paper being shifted before Iago reads out to him: “... participate in a family roleplay scenario.”

“Family?” Aidan wants to laugh if it weren’t so sad. “He wanted me to fuck a teddy bear. You never told me what he asked for!”

They argue back and forth. Aidan tries explain what happened in as much detail as he can, until he is tired of trying to get his point across. 

“Look,” he sighs finally, rubbing at his eyes. “I get that there is a lot of money involved and that you would love to have this guy as a regular, but for once, I’d wish you’d be on my side.”

He doesn’t wait for a reply and switches off his phone to stop Iago from calling back. He doesn’t have it in him to argue anymore today.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Dean walks back in after a short while. Just long enough to make it appear like he wasn’t eavesdropping. He places a cup of hot coffee in Aidan's hand and a plate with four slices of buttered toast in the other. 

“No,” Aidan replies, but Dean looks at him thoughtfully and Aidan thinks that he owes him some kind of explanation. “It was just a bad day at work.”

Dean sits down on the sofa next to Aidan and steals one slice of toast off his plate.

“A bad day? I’d say. I couldn’t help overhear.” Dean takes a bite off his toast and stares into the distance thoughtfully. “Really gross blokes or weird things aside, what is the worst thing that can happen? Something like… the guy didn't come? Does that even happen?”

Dean is obviously trying to lighten the mood and Aidan is thankful for that.

“Oh, it happens,” he says before he elaborates. Most people don’t ask about it, but secretly they are all dying to hear the bad sex stories. Aidan thinks that it makes them feel better, to hear about someone who is even worse at having sex than they are. Or maybe it is like watching a car crash, something you just can’t look away from. Maybe it’s a bit of both. “I'll honestly do whatever I can to get you there, but sometimes it's just not working. Maybe the...uh, plumbing isn't running right that day or you build it up in your head too much and get stage fright. It's okay, I understand.” He shrugs his shoulders. “But what's really annoying is when the guy doesn't tell you that it's not going to happen.”

“Yeah, because that's embarrassing,” Dean laughs. “It's bad enough to say that something's not working when you're with your girlfriend. Or boyfriend. But with a gorgeous stranger? That's even worse!”

Aidan looks over at Dean, wondering if the word “gorgeous” just slipped in, or if he meant him specifically. His expression doesn't give it away. 

“I know, but it's even more embarrassing if you don't say anything and once the hour is up, you get nothing and I get jaw-ache or Repetetive Strain Injury. There was this one guy, he was legendary. I wanted to get things started with a blowjob and he grabbed my hair, like this.” Aidan reaches over and digs his fingers into Dean's hair. He just can’t help himself. “And I thought, great, he must really be enjoying himself. He keeps holding on, so I keep going. For an hour, I do everything humanly possible, but nothing works. He still has his hand on my head when the time is up and so I ask him what's wrong he tells me that he doesn't like blowjobs! And I have to ask myself,” Aidan lets his hand trail down Dean's cheek and cups his chin, forcing him to look into his eyes as if he was going to say something very important, “Who doesn't like blowjobs?”

Aidan catches his bottom lip between his teeth, pretending to think hard.

“Especially from you,” Dean agrees and then quickly adds, “Or anyone who does it professionally, because, uhm, you must know a lot of tricks.”

His gaze drops down to Aidan’s mouth for just a second, before he meets Aidan’s eyes again. The tricks he could teach Dean! He can just picture his lips wrapped around a nice, hard cock, eager to learn. He slowly takes his thumb off Dean’s chin to run it over his bottom lip, just to see what happens, when they are disturbed by the sound of a key at the front door.

Dean practically jumps away from Aidan with a guilty look on his face that he covers with a smile, when Luke walks in.

“You’re back,” he says a little too excited. “I take it Covent Garden didn’t blow up, yeah?”

“Nah. Sometimes a suitcase left on the platform turns out to be really just a suitcase.”

“Luke works in disaster management. They had to evacuate Covent Garden Station.” Dean explains. The Covent Garden underground station is notorious for being crowded and difficult to exit. The only options are large, claustrophobia inducing lifts or climbing up 15 flights of a spiralling staircase. Just the thought of being trapped down there in a panicking crowd is enough to make Aidan feel uneasy.

Luke takes off his heavy duty coat at the door. He is wearing a crisp lilac business-shirt underneath, which makes Aidan guess that Luke is somewhere in middle management and definitely not the guy at the front line doing any actual people-saving.

“It’s good to see you again, Aidan.” Luke comes over to shake hands. He is good looking and well-mannered. Aidan can definitely understand what Dean sees in him. He is the kind of person you could easily bring home to meet your parents, not a down-and-out, narcoleptic hooker. 

Luke gives Dean a kiss on the top of his head, exactly where Aidan has had his hand before. The hair is still messy.

“I have a ton of paperwork to do now, thanks to one single suitcase, so I am going to head home.”

“Aren’t you staying for lunch, at least?” 

“You mean, am I going to make you lunch?” Dean grins mischievously until Luke gives in with a dramatic sigh. “Mushroom Risotto?”

“Score!” Dean raises his arms above his head in victory. “Aidan, you have to stay as well. I promise you won’t regret it!”

Aidan is not so sure about that. He doesn’t know how much of this domestic bliss he can handle. But Dean places his hand casually on his upper thigh as he speaks and that is enough to convince him.

“If it’s not too much trouble,” he says reluctantly.

“Luke always makes way too much anyway,” Dean reassures and then reaches for a folder that sits on the floor next to the couch. “Why don’t we talk about your photos before lunch?”


	5. Who needs a Lucky Pair of Underwear anyway?

“So, I fell asleep on the sofa.” Aidan hangs his head in shame, as he finishes telling the entire story of his weekend adventures to Adam. They are taking a coffee-break from their shopping trip, sitting on a bench overlooking the river. Even though the air is still cool, the sun is warm and promises an early spring this year.

“What did he say?”

“He was lovely about it. Like it was the most natural thing in the world,” Aidan sighs deeply. He still can't get over the awkwardness of the situation. “I bet I snored like a manatee in heat, too.” That would put the cherry on top of his embarrassment.

“Nah, you are one of those people who are ridiculously perfect when you sleep and make all of us normal people look bad when we lie there like this.” Adam pulls his face into a grimace with his hand and sticks out his tongue. “I bet he’s madly in love with you already.” Adam is the only person Aidan has told how he feels about Dean. Being the romantic that he is, Adam is convinced that there is an epic love story in store for them, whereas Aidan thinks that Adam has seen Pretty Woman one too many times. 

“I don’t think so. Later that day, I saw his boyfriend on the telly, giving interviews. He’s the PR guy for disaster management…” 

“So?” Adam shrugs his shoulders. “I bet you are still hotter and nicer. Anyway, you must think that there is some hope yet, otherwise you wouldn't have bought that suit to impress him.”

“I didn't!” Aidan protests, “it's for the photos and you know it!”

He and Dean had spent quite some time to come up with a concept for Aidan's updated website. It was quite a challenge to find something that wasn't overdone or boring or tacky. In the end, they agreed that most clients came to Aidan for a boyfriend experience and that should be reflected in his website. They were going to add a blog and take pictures of a typical day in his life. From waking up in the morning to getting ready to go out, just with a sexy little twist. For the password protected part of the website that only serious clients can access, they were going to include some shower pictures as well. Everything would be very tastefully done to set him apart from the guys that take couple of pictures of their cock and call themselves professionals.

“Uh-huh,” Adam replies and hides a smile behind his paper cup. “To be fair, it's a nice suit. You could wear it on all kinds of occasions.”

“Exactly!” 

“Like, say, a wedding,” Adam continues, which makes Aidan laugh. 

“Who would invite me to a wedding? One of my clients? Or maybe someone could hire me as entertainment for the single guys who don't get to make out with a wasted bridesmaid?”

“Don’t say that!” Adam slaps Aidan's arm playfully, but then turns serious. “I've been meaning to ask you... would you be my best man... slash bridesmaid?”

It takes a second for the words to sink in, but when they do, Aidan's jaw drops.

“Shit!” It's probably not the best first word to say to an engagement. “Sorry! I mean, wow! That is brilliant!”

“Yeah?” Adam asks, but he seems like a huge weight has been lifted off his shoulders. 

“Yeah!” Aidan confirms earnestly and pulls Adam into a hug. “I'm really happy for you.”

He means it. No one deserves to be happy more than Adam. Yet, there is still a little voice in the back of his head wondering what is wrong with _him_. Adam can find a man with whom he wants to spend the rest of his life and Dean can find a boyfriend within a matter of a few weeks after coming out, while Aidan never had a relationship that lasted longer than three dates - not counting the girl he briefly went out with in school, because it seemed like a thing boys that age should do. Things with her inevitably ended in a - at the time - disastrous break-up.

“When did this happen?”

“He asked me right before my audition. It was really spontaneous; he didn't even have a ring. He was kneeling in front of me, because he helped me with my shoe and then he just... checked.”

“And then you nailed the audition.” Aidan squeezes Adam's arm. “But that was weeks ago. Why didn't you tell me sooner?”

Adam shrugs his shoulders. 

“I don't know. We were both busy and I... I was kind of scared how you'd react. I know you and Graham never really warmed up to each other, so...”

“You are an idiot, you know that?” Aidan shakes his head in disapproval. How could his best mate think that he would be anything but pleased for him? He makes a mental note to try and get to know Graham better before the big day. “Wait, you said best man and bridesmaid. Are you going to get married in drag?”

Adam nods his head slowly. 

“Do I have to wear drag again?” 

“Look at your face!” Adam laughs but then shakes his head to reassure Aidan that, no, he doesn’t have to put on the tits and tights again, which is a relief. 

“It's going to be the first time that my family sees me as Arial Bold.” Adam says after a small pause. “So everything has to be perfect. And now that you know, we can start looking for dresses.” Aidan groans, but allows Adam to pull him to his feet. “We only have two months.”

“Two months? Are you joking?” 

“Well, you have seen my wedding board on Pinterest, right?” Aidan nods. He has been unfortunate enough to have to look at hundreds of pictures Adam saved as a reference for his perfect wedding. From decorations to invitations to cake to the right socks for the groom. “I know you are going to roll your eyes at me, but I thought about it. I don't need any of that stuff as long as I am getting married to Graham. As quickly as possible. It’s going to be small, just family and friends.”

“You honestly disgust me,” Aidan jokes and leans over to give Adam one more hug.

 

Dean’s kitchen is probably Aidan’s favourite part of the entire house and that is why he wants his early morning pictures to be taken here. It is the warmest and most inviting room he has ever seen and on top of that, it is just really freaking cool. The walls are the building’s original red bricks left exposed. They are slightly discoloured with age, which gives the room an enormous amount of character. All the kitchen cupboards are painted in teal. Some of the doors are askew and Aidan thinks that looking at them too hard could make them fall off. There are red pots and pans hanging from a rail on the wall and a lovely, aged farm table in the centre of the room with yellow chairs around it.

Aidan is sitting on one of them and scrolls through the pictures of his first day of shooting with Dean. They started out with something seemingly simple, getting ready to go out by putting on a suit – the new gorgeous suit - in front of a mirror. It is something Aidan has done hundreds of times, but as soon as Dean’s camera was on him, he became stiff and uncomfortable and slapped himself in the face with the lose end of his tie more times than he cares to admit. Overall, it was not exactly a great start. But Dean seemed to have a never ending supply of patience, encouragement and ideas so that they got something in the end. A few very interesting photos of Aidan’s back, with is face only visible in the mirror. 

After that session they went to the park to get some action shots, as Dean called them. Since it was a beautiful, sunny March day they tried to get a few pictures of Aidan jogging, but they quickly realised that, while there were some people who look good when they run, Aidan wasn’t one of them. It was a frustrating experience for him, as he had always been able to rely on his looks.

“Don’t worry, we’ll get there.” Dean told him with his trademark smile, already working out a new plan in his head. “How good are you with a football?”

For boys growing up in Ireland in the late eighties and early nineties there wasn’t much to do after school, except for heading to the playground and play football until it was dark and time to go home. Like most boys his age, Aidan dreamed of becoming the next George Best – sans the heavy drinking, the next Marco van Basten, the next Ronaldo or even the next Pat Bonner, who was only a goalie and from County Donegal, sure, but at least he was Irish.

“I’m okay. Why?”

Dean points at a couple of guys who are asking people to join them for a game. 

“Play a bit, get sweaty and then we try some post-workout pictures.”

It is a lie. As soon as Aidan gets into the game and forgets about the camera, Dean manages to get some really nice shots, which makes Aidan think that he is probably a genius and much too talented to waste his time with weddings and babies and prostitutes.

“All right,” Dean says and finishes his preparations in the kitchen by placing an improvised vase that is actually a beer pitcher filled with fresh flowers on the table. “Ready when you are.”

The pictures are supposed to be early morning, just out of bed shots, so Aidan is barefooted and wearing dark blue plaid pyjama bottoms. He takes off his zipper jumper to reveal the T-Shirt underneath. It is green and has “Kiss me I’m Irish” written on the chest along with a four leaved shamrock. It is rather campy, and just small enough to be sexy and it fits the theme of today’s shoot, sweet and flirty with a hint of mucky.

Dean shows him, where he is supposed to stand and gives him a long, scrutinizing look. 

“Hang on. Your hair isn’t messy enough.”

“That’s a first,” Aidan laughs, but he is more than happy to let Dean to ruffle through his curls. Dean is standing so close that he can feel the warmth of his body.

“I’ve been wondering,” Dean’s hand drops to Aidan’s chest. His index finger traces the “K” on the T-Shirt. “Is it true that it is unlucky not to kiss someone who’s Irish?” 

“Extremely unlucky,” Aidan replies gravely, but there is a smile tugging on his lips. He hadn’t planned to get a kiss from Dean when he chose the T-Shirt, he just wanted to look the part, but now that the offer is on the table, he isn’t going to walk away from it. Instead he places his hand gently on the small of Dean’s back. Not pulling him closer, even though he desperately wants to. He is just holding him for now.

“We really shouldn’t take that risk, then,” Dean whispers and stretches to place a very chaste kiss on Aidan’s lips. He pulls away slightly, but before Aidan can comment on it being too short, Dean reaches up, wraps his hand around the back of his neck and kisses him again. Properly this time, tender and slow and warm. Aidan opens his mouth immediately, eagerly responding with all the pent-up emotions he’s been so careful not to show. 

For a reason. 

Before the kiss can grow more passionate, Aidan pulls away. His heart is pounding in his chest and he can hear the blood rushing in his ears. He can’t go around kissing people like that. It’s not right, given what he does for a living.

“I think we’re being extra lucky there,” he says and fights hard to keep a grin off his face, but fails when he sees Dean doing the same thing. It is unfair how easy it is to be around Dean, how they can make stupid decisions, such as making out in the middle of the kitchen, and laugh about it after.

“Yeah, I can’t see anything going wrong now,” Dean agrees and hands Aidan a coffee mug and a newspaper as props for this shoot.

Maybe it _is_ the extra luck, but Aidan gives full credit for the pictures to Dean. He has a way of making Aidan feel gorgeous and secure enough to try different things that works really well. He looks friendly and inviting, the t-shirt is hugging his body in exactly the right places and even the light coming through the window is just right.

“I like these,” Aidan points out a series of extreme close-up of his hand, bringing the mug up to his lips, his eyes looking down to read the paper, a bit of exposed skin on his back when he lifts his arms over his head to get a bowl from the top shelf. “Too bad they won’t work for the website.”

“Are you sure?” Dean leans over his shoulder to take a closer look. “I think there are a lot of people who want to be that cup.”

“That’s weird.” Aidan crinkles his nose. If he turned his head now, he could kiss Dean’s jaw. Aidan is very aware of that, so he keeps his eyes fixed on the computer. “So, what’s next?”

“I think we should,” Dean moves in even closer, “get you out of these clothes and in bed.”

It gives Aidan goosebumps to have Dean whisper those words in his ear and he wonders if Dean is still talking about taking photos.

“It is going to take some time to get all my equipment packed up and dragged across the city,” Dean thinks out loud. “But if you don’t have any other plans, we can get it done today.”

Aidan’s plans are pretty much limited to getting a takeaway, most likely from the Kebab shop near his underground station where the staff actually knows his name by now, and watch something awful on the telly until he falls asleep on the couch. His life, he realises not for the first time, is really not as glamorous as one might think.

“Let’s do it.” He can’t stop himself from adding: “While we still have luck on our side.” 

“You’re not funny,” Dean says flatly. “Let me just make a call while you get dressed.”

Dean leaves the kitchen, but Aidan can still overhear the conversation. It sounds like Dean is cancelling his plans with Luke for the evening. It also sounds like Luke isn’t too happy about this. Aidan tries not to read too much into it. Dean is a professional photographer who noticed that today is a good day for taking pictures and he wants to take advantage of that. The thought that Dean would rather spend time with Aidan than with his real boyfriend is just wishful thinking on his part. It may be fuelled by their little snogging earlier that day, but still pretty implausible. 

 

Dean is in a foul mood after the call for a while and it reminds Aidan why he doesn’t have a boyfriend. He just couldn’t stand the drama all the time. He likes that he can go out and come back home whenever he wants to, without anyone nagging him about it. When they reach Aidan’s flat, he cheers up, though. Dean hasn’t been there, since his first visit and Aidan can only hope that is the good memories that lighten his spirits.

“Did you know that, the last time I was here, I almost called to cancel our appointment? I stood right here with my phone in my hand, because I was so scared to go in.”

“Really?” Aidan tries his best to sound surprised. “I had no idea.”

“Liar,” Dean gives him a little shove as they climb up the stairs. “I’m really glad I didn’t. You kind of changed my life.”

“Yeah?” Chuffed, Aidan stuffs his hands in his pockets and pulls his shoulders up. He doesn’t know how to respond to that. “Then I’m glad as well,” he finally says as they reach his flat. “Unless it was a change for the worse.”

“What do you think?” Dean laughs. They take his equipment straight to the bedroom where he starts unpacking.

“I think your life’s better now, because,” Aidan pauses dramatically while he takes off his jumper, “now you don’t have to eat pussy anymore.” He makes a face at the thought.

“What?! What are you talking about? That’s _nice_. It sure beats having a cock in your mouth so deep you can hardly breathe.”

“Oh, you poor thing. You’re not doing it right.” The things Aidan could teach Dean… “I can give you a few tips later.” Yeah, that’s right, Aidan, tell Dean how to please his boyfriend better. He really didn’t think this one through. He pushes his jeans down. “This okay?” 

Dean looks up from his camera briefly and then again for a second much longer and more open mouthed look. He says something that sounds a lot like “hnnggn” and blushes promptly.

“Yes?” Aidan asks and tosses a couple of condoms on the nightstand to make the pictures look more real and vivid. 

“Yeah,” Dean nods enthusiastically and helps to decorate. Aidan has a guitar that he can’t play but likes because it looks cool and works very well in the background. They also add big headphones and a couple of books to their setting.

As it turns out, posing in bed is more complicated than Aidan had thought. There are so many parts of his body to keep in mind and so many cliché poses to avoid. If his arms and legs look good, the duvet gets in the way or the waistband of his pants is too low or too high. Once those things are adjusted, his muscles start to tremble from holding an uncomfortable position for too long. It should be annoying, but there is a nervous energy in the room, as if they were two teenagers alone with each other for the first time with the door closed. Very aware of all the things that could happen, but not ready to take the next step yet. Accordingly, they break out in giggles more often than they should.

It is during one of these laughing fits that they somehow end up on top of each other. It starts with Dean leaning over him to fluff up a pillow and Aidan poking him in the side. Dean retaliates by tickling Aidan and it all escalates from there until Dean is sitting on top of Aidan, straddling his lap and pinning his shoulders onto the bed.

“Ha!” Dean smiles triumphantly. His face is so close, Aidan could just lift his head and kiss him. His fingertips trace up Dean’s thighs, following the seam of his jeans. It is a habit he developed, something sexy he does without being fully aware that he does it anymore. He only notices what he has been doing, when his nails drag over the centre seam in the back with audible clicks. These jeans are annoying and he really wants them out of the way! 

Dean shifts in his lap to sit up straight. His hands slide down Aidan’s torso and come to rest on his stomach. He has a smile on his face that brings out his dimples.

“Are you trying to steal my Canon EF 75-300mm lens in your pants or are you just pleased to see me?” With a look of pure innocence, he rocks his hips, soft enough to make it seem unintended, but Aidan knows that there is nothing accidental about that. He covers his face with his hands and half-groans, half-laughs.

“You’re evil! Get away from me!”

“No. Now that I’ve got you, I think we should talk about the elephant in the room.”

“I’m flattered, but it’s not _that_ big.” 

“Really?” Dean shakes his head at the sad attempt to be funny. 

“Yeah.” Aidan stands by his joke, even though it was lame. He also doesn’t want to talk. After the kiss he thinks that Dean might be interested in sleeping with him again, but the situation between them hasn’t changed. He is still an escort and can’t just start an affair with a client. Even if he likes Dean more than he as liked anyone before and can even picture them doing normal things together that don’t involve sex, that’s not where they are headed. Dean has Luke for that, after all, and is probably just looking for a friendship with benefits. “But I think we should keep things professional for the time being. You know, since we are still working together.”

“Oh.” Dean frowns and climbs off Aidan’s lap. “Yeah, that’s… good.”

Aidan purses his lips and keeps them tightly together to stop himself from saying anything. It sucks, no, it SUCKS to always have to put his work first, but in the end it is the right decision. His career has an expiration date, after all, that comes closer with every birthday.


	6. Guys like you need someone to screw (up their life)

“Now, let’s talk about our rising star. Aidan.”

“Huh?” Aidan looks up from the game he’s playing on his phone and he isn’t the only one that is puzzled. It is no secret that there is no love lost between Aidan and Iago, so to hear those words is a bit of a surprise to everybody.

“Aidan’s new website.” Iago turns his tablet pc around for everyone to see. It’s not just the new pictures. Dean has put in a lot of his time to redo the entire design and it looks really sleek and classy now. There are still bits missing, such as the password protected area, since they didn’t have a chance to take the pictures, yet and Aidan still has to come up with something interesting to say for his first blog entry. He can’t really see why anyone would care what he’s up to. Still, everyone he asks about starting the blog seems to think that is a charming idea. 

“This is the kind of commitment I expect from all of you,” Iago goes on and while Aidan is proud of the end result it is incredibly uncomfortable to be singled out like that. It feels a lot like being back in school, the only difference is that, back then, he was the one glaring at the other kid who put in extra effort and got praise for it. “It sure paid off for you, Aidan. I have a client, who requested you specifically, whenever you are available. I took the liberty of adjusting your rate to three hundred per hour and he is prepared to meet that request.”

Aidan’s mouth opens and closes again wordlessly. He honestly doesn’t know what to say. He just knows that if something sounds too good to be true, it probably is. There has to be a catch.

“Actually, you met him just last week,” Iago says and the corner of his mouth twitches as if he is trying to smile. “Allan.”

And there it is, the catch. Allan has been Ben’s client for ages and Aidan only took over the appointment as a favour when Ben wasn’t feeling well. Clients change their minds, when they meet another escort, it happens, but Aidan can imagine how hurt he would feel if someone else snatched one of his regulars from him. Whether it was intended or not, it would piss him off to no end. He tries to make eye contact with Ben if only to mouth an apology, but Ben is looking at Iago, his jaw set.

The funny thing is, Aidan was pretty sure that he blew the appointment completely and even told Ben, when they chatted before the meeting.

“How did you get on with Allen,” was, in fact, the first thing Ben asked.

“I don’t know.” Aidan shrugged his shoulders. “I just never know if I’ve done it right when there’s no sex. How do you know that you’ve done enough?”

Ben had briefed Aidan on what Allan expected from him beforehand, but it was still a strange experience. Allen had a human cat fetish and asked Aidan to strip down, draw whiskers on his face and wear nothing but a blue bow with a bell around his neck, cat ears and a butt plug with a furry tail. He gave Aidan milk to drink from a bowl, challenged him to catch a bit of string with feathers attached and finally pulled him in his lap and just petted him until their time was up. 

It was strangely soothing and while Aidan enjoyed this new type of role-play, he could easily see how much better Ben was suited for the job with his naturally feline features and long, graceful limbs. 

“You’ll know if you haven’t,” Ben reassured him. “I’m sure it went splendidly.”

 

“My Allen?” Ben asks.

“Afraid so,” Iago replies. “I guess he is looking for someone a little less… mature.”

If the room has been quiet before, the silence becomes deafening now, with everyone around the table holding their breath. Calling someone “mature” in this business is basically a kind way of telling them that they are starting to get a little too old, only there was no kindness in Iago’s voice.

“I won’t take him,” Aidan says, just to break the tension. He is sure that Allen didn’t ask for him instead of Ben for his next appointment. Iago probably talked him into it. Taking away one of Ben’s oldest clients is just Iago’s way of punishing Ben for calling in sick. 

“It’s fine,” Ben caps his pen and closes his diary. “It’s not your fault, Aidan. I was just surprised that our _agent_ didn’t have the class to give me the news in private before announcing it to the room.” His voice could have cut glass and, surprisingly, Iago leaves it at that. Had it been Aidan, behaving disrespectfully, Iago would have called him out on it, but then again, Iago is no match for Ben intellectually or even physically and everyone knows it. 

For the rest of the meeting, Ben refuses all appointments Iago offers with “Sorry, I’m busy that day”. 

Aidan doesn’t know if Ben really doesn’t need the work of if he is just trying to prove a point, but it definitely fills up his own schedule.

“I can’t do another appointment on Thursday.” Seeing three clients on one day is unprofessional and, quite frankly, madness, not to mention impossible. He isn’t sixteen anymore. 

“Why not?” Iago checks his own diary. “You only have one early in the morning and the other one is in the afternoon. That leaves your evening wide open.”

“Or we just call them up and see if they are up for a gangbang. That would really clear my schedule.” 

He honestly likes that idea, and makes a mental note to look into gangbangs. It sounds like fun to have a handful of guys all use his body at the same time and getting paid 200 pounds per person. It certainly is profit-yielding. It could even be something for his blog!

Still, it won’t help him with the Thursday situation. He has an appointment with Dean to take the last bunch of pictures and that is a priority but he doesn’t want to antagonise Iago any further, so he suggests: “Why don’t you get one of the part time guys in?”

Iago makes a face as if someone had given him a Dirty Sanchez but then sighs deeply.

“No, this Thursday appointment is really important. Let’s just rearrange things, shall we?” Iago hates the guys who have a regular job and only work for the agency in their time off. According to Iago this is, because they are too ugly to make it as full time escorts anyway. He is charming like that. 

They move around appointments until they are both somewhat satisfied with the schedule. 

After the meeting, Aidan tries to catch Ben just to make sure that there are no hard feelings, but before he has the chance Iago pulls him aside to brief him further on the Thursday appointment. Iago uses the words “VIP” and “new clientele” and “don’t fuck it up” often enough to make Aidan a little nervous. He has never been trusted with this much responsibility before. Usually the really important clients go to Ben, because he is more polished, more educated, more experienced in the world of rich people and ultimately, more expensive.

 

“Wow, this place is fancy. I thought the doorman wouldn’t even let me in.” Dean looks around the hotel room with wide eyes. The Radisson Blu at Canary Warf is only a four star hotel, but it is rather nice and they have beautiful rooms with amazing bathrooms that are perfect for taking pictures.

Dean’s eyes land on the messy bed and the condom wrappers on the nightstand. Aidan quickly sweeps them in the bin.

“Sorry. I didn’t have time to clean up.” He only closed the door behind his Thursday morning client a minute before Dean knocked. It should have worked out fine. The client was supposed to leave at eight and he asked Dean over for half past, but some things just can’t be timed. The client took ages to finish and wanted a cuddle after and even though Aidan kept subtly reminding him that he needed to leave for work, the client kept reminding Aidan that he was the boss and could be late once.

“There was a guy who got into the lift when I got out, was that your…” Dean gestures towards the bed.

“Uhm,” Aidan makes an apologetic face. “I think so.”

There is an awkward pause. Aidan is very aware that he is only wearing a towel around his hips and that there is a heavy smell of sex in the air, even though he opened all the windows. He can only imagine how disgusted Dean must be.

“We should get started,” Dean decides finally and Aidan is happy to agree. The room is only booked until noon and there is a lot to get done. Dean carries his bags into the bathroom.

“I need about ten minutes to get my equipment set up. How about your equipment?”

It is a very bad pun, but Aidan laughs anyway, if only to get rid of some of the nervous tension. The pictures they are about to take are for the password protected area of the website that only people who made a booking can access. To reassure them that everything on Aidan is the appropriate size and in working condition. Or remind them of that fact in hopes to get them to make a new booking. The pictures are going to be full frontal nude shots and there is nothing to hide, no clothes, no props. And then there is Dean, who has seen him naked, of course, but only in the heat of the moment, not looking at him detached from the other end of a cold camera lens.

He pushes the irrational fear of Dean pointing and laughing aside and sits down on the edge of the bathtub. He needs to tell himself again that he is doing his job and that there is no need to be embarrassed before he slips his hand under the towel to get his “equipment set up” as Dean called it.

“So, this guy you were with before, what did you do with him?” Dean is sitting on the floor to adjust the feet of his tripod and there is a bit of a naughty smile on his face. Aidan slides off the bathtub, so that he sits on the floor as well, eye to eye with Dean.

“Well,” he starts, his right hand still around his cock, rubbing it gently, “he’s a regular and he has this fetish for being around people who are asleep.”

“He has what?” Dean, on his hands and knees, stops dead to look at Aidan. 

“He lets me have the room for the night to sleep and at some point he sneaks in. I am always awake, but I pretend to be asleep. He watches me for a while and then he touches me and folds my arms and legs, rolls me over. He loves to do this,” Aidan lifts up his free arm and lets it fall like a dead weight. “He does it over and over and then, eventually, he fucks me.”

“Wow. That’s so creepy.”

“Honestly, it’s really relaxing. It’s a bit like Yoga, I think.”

“No,” Dean says with a laugh. “That is nothing like Yoga. I’ve done it, believe me, no one fucks you in the end.”

“Maybe you’re not doing it right,” Aidan suggests and laughs when Dean gives him the finger.

“I’m about done here.” Dean retrieves his camera from his bag and looks at Aidan expectantly. Aidan is not ready. Not even a little bit.

“What do you want from me, I just had sex, I’m done. And that look isn’t helping either!”

“What can I do to help, then?” Dean sits down next to Aidan and whispers in his hear, “do you need a hand?”

Dean unwraps the towel leisurely and then covers Aidan’s hand with his own. 

Aidan turns his head to make eye contact with Dean, while he slowly pulls his own hand away.

“You’d really do a lot to get a good picture, wouldn’t you?”

“Yeah,” Dean replies and when his fingers finally curl around Aidan’s cock, goosebumps spread over his arms. He wants this, he, Aidan the real human being, not Aidan the escort. The problem is, Aidan the escort would have gone for it, no regrets, but Aidan the human being knows better. Things don’t work like that. _Things_ are more complicated.

“What about Luke?” he asks and the question hangs heavy between them until Dean shakes his head almost too softly to notice.

“Things aren’t working out between us. He’s great, but I haven’t had the chance to tell him yet…” Dean brings his eyes back up to look at Aidan, “I’m not in love with him. I’m going to break up with him. It’s unfair to pretend that I love him when there is someone else.”

Aidan opens his mouth to say something, but it is a fact that he is rubbish at relationships and is the last person to comment or give an opinion on other people’s relationships.

“Someone else, huh?” He is aware that Dean’s fingers are still wrapped around him and that there might be a small chance that he is the other person. “What if that person can’t give you what you want?” It freaks him out to think about that.

“I don’t know.”

It’s not the answer he wants to hear. He wants to hear that Dean has it all figured out. It kind of makes him angry to hear that he doesn’t, because, well, if Dean doesn’t have a clue, then how can he?

“Okay, then what if that person comes home,” his voice is rising as he speaks and gets more agitated, “and can’t even get his dick hard for you, because he has spent all day fucking other men?”

Aidan pulls away from Dean and gathers his towel back around his waist, when he stands up. His heart is thumping wildly in his chest, panicking, because he knows that he is fucking things up and can’t do anything to stop it. Even if he ignores the fact that it is wrong for an escort to date a client, there is still too much uncertainty, too much at stake. He has never had feelings for anyone and if he allows himself to have them now, he might get really hurt. 

“You’re just letting this situation get to you. Relax.” Dean gets up as well and even though Aidan knows that he is right, he is just so confused and scared.

“What if,” he can’t even look at Dean anymore and keeps his eyes fixed on the floor. “What if you change your mind again and start dating women again?”

“I don’t know,” Dean repeats and starts picking up his equipment to put it back into the bags. “I think we should stop here and think about things.”

He touches Aidan’s arm gently.

“Would you look at me for a second? I am not suggesting or expecting that we move in together today. But we could go on a date. Something _normal_ people do when they meet for the first time and get to know each other.”

Aidan nods his head. He doesn’t know what else to say. Everything that came out of his mouth so far has been shit and he can’t stand listening to himself anymore. He simply watches Dean gather his things.

“I’ll call you, all right?”

“Yeah,” Aidan replies in a small voice. It’s a line, something people say, but never actually do.

 

His head’s banging worse than the morning after St. Paddy’s day. He doesn’t remember drinking, but actually, he doesn’t remember much at all. There is an annoying buzzing near his head and he notices the sickeningly sweet, metallic smell of blood. He thinks that he should open his eyes and have a look what’s going on, or where he is, even, but it takes a lot of effort to even blink. At least, he is at home, he realises. He is in his own dimly lit bedroom, lying on the ground near the bed. 

His eye lids flutter close even though he’s fighting it and when he opens them again, a minute or an hour later, his headache is so bad, it is making him feel dizzy.

The buzzing starts again and this time Aidan realises that it is his phone which is lying under the bed. The display is lighting up, but when he tries to reach for it, his arm won’t obey. It just gives him a wave of stabbing pain, when he tries to move it, but doesn’t do anything. It confuses and annoys Aidan more than it concerns him. At this moment he is just worried about retrieving his phone while it is still ringing and lighting up, fearing that he would never find it again once it stops. He props himself up carefully on his uninjured arm. His hair is sticking to the floor and peels away with the sound of not quite dried glue being pulled and some stringy liquid is dripping from his mouth as he turns over. He ignores all of it and focuses his attention on the task at hand. When he finally reaches the phone, it feels like he is looking at it cross-eyed. The display is too bright and blurred, but he thinks he can recognise the picture of Dean he snapped during one of their photo-sessions. He swipes his thumb across the screen to take the call, noticing the smudge of blood his finger leaves on the display. He stares at it uncomprehendingly for a moment before it occurs to him to put the phone to his ear.

“… really sorry. I hate how we left things and I’m on my way over now to talk.” It is definitely Dean. Aidan recognises the voice immediately. “Aidan, are you really not going to talk to me? Do you realise that a conversation on the phone works a lot better if the other person says something? Especially if the first person just apologised?” 

“I need help, I’m hurt,” is what Aidan tries to say, but it comes out as “Mmng” with a small whimper at the end.

“What? I didn’t catch that.” The tone in Dean’s voice changes slightly. “You okay, Aid?”

“Help,” Aidan manages to get out clear enough. 

“Shit! What’s wrong?” Dean asks. Aidan honestly tries to answer, but there is nothing, his memory is completely blank. “I’m on my way, right now. I’ll be there in ten minutes!”

“Okay.” Aidan wants to say no, because he can’t let Dean see him like this. He understands that something really messed up must have happened to him and he doesn’t want Dean to see that. How could someone as great and wholesome as Dean continue to like someone who wakes up on the floor, naked and bleeding with no recollection of how it happened? 

He can fix it, though. He can get himself cleaned up and pretend he just fell out of bed and hit his head. He thinks.

He picks himself up, using the bed as support until he is standing, shaky and unsteady, but on his own two feet. Slowly he feels his way along the wall towards the bathroom. He has to stop a few times to breathe deeply and fight off nausea that comes from the pain in his head and the room spinning around him.

It feels like an eternity, but when he finally makes it to the bathroom he doesn’t have a chance to look into the mirror to assess the damage. He just slumps down against the toilet and rests his cheek on the rim. He watches drops of blood fall onto the white ceramic and roll into the water, tinting it red, until it finally makes him sick.


	7. Stuck on Limbo Bridge

He thinks he must have blacked out again, because suddenly there is someone shaking him and calling his name and trying to wake him when all he wants to do is stay in this agony-free, worry-free state. He can’t fight it, though. As he is shaken back into consciousness, the more pain returns to his body, throbbing, stabbing and burning.

The nauseous feeling is coming back as well and he is scrambling for the toilet before he is even fully awake. He notices that someone – Dean, undoubtedly - is holding his forehead and that there is a comforting hand between his shoulder blades, while he mostly dry-heaves and retches painfully.

“Rinse.” A glass of water appears in front of his face when he is done and with some help, he takes a mouthful and spits it out. 

“Drink.” He manages to swallow a few small sips with some effort. 

“And up.” Aidan gets up with Dean’s help, gets wrapped up in a towel and sat back down on the now closed toilet. He is so relieved that someone else is taking the wheel for a moment that he just wants to lean into Dean, hold onto him and let him make all the decisions for a while.

“There. And my mom thinks I learned nothing in college.” The joke falls flat, there is no humour in Dean’s voice and none of his usual cheerfulness. Dean places a cold, damp cloth on the back of Aidan’s neck and then kneels down in front of him. “What happened?”

It’s an excellent question, one that Aidan would like to answer, but he can’t. There is simply nothing there except a feeling of anxiety, when he tries to remember.

He stares at his hands and wonders where all the blood comes from. There is blood under his nails and around the cuticles, on his fingers and the palms of his hands. It even goes up his arms. He wonders if all of it is his, because it seems like a lot. 

“Aid?”

“I don’t know,” he says. He doesn’t really remember the question anymore, but it seems like a safe answer. Speaking is still difficult. It hurts to use his mouth, which seems disproportionate anyway. “It’s a lot of blood, right?”

“Yeah,” Dean replies. He stretches to wet another towel in the sink and begins to wipe the blood off Aidan’s face as gently as possible. 

“What happened?” Aidan asks. He feels like he is being driven through banks of fog in a car. Sometimes he can kind of make out what’s going on around him and sometimes there is nothing but static noise in his ears and vague shapes in front of his eyes, but he can’t stop the car and get out.

“I can’t tell you. I wasn’t here,” he explains. “When I got here the front door was open and I found you in the bathroom. It looks like you’ve been beaten. With a bus…” There is a pause for Aidan to processes the information. “Does that sound like something you remember?”

“Hhhnn,” Aidan replies. He doesn’t know and he doesn’t want to think about it. He honestly just wants to go to sleep. He is tired and sore and he doesn’t want to deal with any of this.

“Aidan.” Dean shakes him awake again and he is talking again, but Aidan finds it too hard to follow. He picks up random words, clothes, ambulance, bedroom, police and “God, Aidan, I’m so sorry”, but they don’t make sense to him. He tries to get himself dressed, with his arm aching and his head throbbing he is pretty sure that he doesn’t do anything helpful, but somehow Dean manages to get some clothes on him before the ambulance arrives and two members of the crew squeeze into the small bathroom.

They ask more questions, they prod and poke him and shine lights in his eyes, and then he goes through the entire process again, with the police. He doesn’t even remember what day of the week it is or what he had for lunch. His earliest clear memory the one thing he would have loved to forget, the argument with Dean. He feels like he should be doing better at this, so it is a frustrating and draining ordeal. Combined with his hurting body it is enough to make Aidan feel a mix of conflicting emotions. He is irritable and at the same time he feels scared and emotional and weepy. 

He is incredibly relieved then the paramedic stops the policeman before Aidan can either snap at him or break down in tears. She asks him to stand up, which he does with help from Dean, and then they slowly make their way out the door where the paramedic’s trolley waits to take him to the ambulance.

Dean goes with him into the lift where Aidan grabs his hand and holds onto it. It is embarrassing, but neither Dean nor the paramedic comment on it.

“I will stay here until the police are gone,” Dean offers while stoking Aidan’s hand with his thumb.

“Thanks.” Aidan feels like that doesn’t even begin to cover how grateful he is, but he finds it impossible to get out more words at the moment.

“Sure. Don’t worry about it. You just worry about getting better, all right?”

Aidan nods his head slowly and the trolley is pushed out of the lift and into the ambulance parked in front of the building.

“Just be okay, right?” Dean repeats and reluctantly lets go of Aidan’s hand.

 

Dean is there when Aidan wakes up. On his own, not counting the several rude interruptions of the nurse who came to visit during the night. Armed with a flashlight to shine into his eyes she asked repeatedly for his name, birthday and address almost to the point where he wanted to tell her to write it down and stop bothering him.

He doesn’t feel great, the drugs they gave him are strong and make him lightheaded and sluggish, but he can’t feel any pain in his body so he takes that as a win.

“Hey,” he croaks and flinches at the sound of his own voice. Dean looks up from his sketchbook and smiles brightly.

“Hey!” He reached for the glass of water on the bedside table without missing a beat and hands it over. His left arm is in a cast and strapped to his body with a sling so that he can’t get himself into a sitting position properly, which makes drinking bit awkward. When the glass touches his bottom lip, it stings, but he still manages to take a few sips without spilling. The water makes it easier to speak, even though his voice is still weak and raspy.

“You better didn’t sit there all night watching me like a stalker.” He hopes that the joke will make things a little easier and Dean seems to get what he attempts to do.

“You wish,” he laughs, but their conversation dies down immediately after that. The silence is only interrupted by the heavy breathing from the man in the other bed. Aidan’s fingers play with the edge of the sling nervously. There is still blood caked underneath his fingernails and around the edges and he knows that he must be filthy.

“I don’t know what to say,” he finally says and it is the truth. What do you say to someone who pretty much saved your life?

“You don’t have to say anything.”

“Yeah, I think I do. I don’t know what I would have done without you. What would have happened...” He has to close his eyes for a moment to gather his thoughts. He blames the bang on the head for his confused, emotional state. It’s not like him and he hates it. When he opens his eyes again Dean has moved closer to the bed. His hand is hovering over Aidan in a lose fist. He needs a second to get it, but when he does, Aidan curls the fingers of his unharmed hand into a fist as well and taps it against Dean’s.

“See, that wasn’t so hard.” Dean beams at him and Aidan smiles back a little lopsided. “Just buy me a drink when you’re out of here and we’re good. You really scared the hell out of me, so you owe me for that.”

“I owe you for scaring you, but not for saving my life?”

“I didn’t make the rules.” Dean shrugs his shoulders and that is the end of it. 

“So, do I look as bad as I feel?” He still hasn’t had the chance to look at the damage, but he can feel the swelling on his face when he touches it. The way Dean hesitates and grimaces is answer enough.

“Kind of like Rihanna. Post Chris Brown.” Aidan’s fingers move over his cheekbone - tracing the scab covering a small cut - towards his forehead, where they find a bandage.

“I think you got some stitches here.” Dean gestures towards the left side of Aidan’s head. “I can see that they shaved your hair. But, look at the bright side, at least the scar will be covered up once it grows back.”

“Woohoo,” Aidan replies unenthusiastically. He would have preferred not to get scarred in the first place. “I just wish I knew what happened.”

“I think it’s safe to say that you were with a client. Your bedroom…” Dean begins. Aidan can see that he is uncomfortable and reluctant to go on, but he takes a deep breath and continues. “I honestly think that you are better off not knowing what happened.” He shakes his head for emphasis. Hearing these words makes Aidan’s stomach twist into a knot. “I told the police to get in touch with Iago to get more information on the client.”

Aidan nods carefully, even as the knot in his stomach tightens when he thinks about Iago, wondering if his agent will be on his side for this one...

“Did you happen to see my mobile? Did the police take it?” Aidan asks slowly. Thoughtfully. Even if Dean thinks he should not even try to remember what happened it isn’t an option for Aidan. He has one client he can’t remember already. He is not going to make it two if he can help it at all.

“I don’t think they did. Do you want it?”

“Well, the point of having an agent is that it’s save, right? We have this system that we text “ok” to Iago if everything is okay. If you text anything else, anything at all or nothing, he gives you a call and if you don’t answer he sends someone over to check on you.” It is very demanding to keep his thoughts straight and put them into words so he is glad that Dean finishes for him.

“You want to know what you texted.”

“Exactly.”

“I took your key before I left the flat. I gave it to the nurse to give to you, but I can get it back and check for you,” Dean offers and Aidan is impressed by his smart decision making. He hadn’t even thought about getting back into his flat once he was released from the hospital. “I can get anything else you need as well.”

“I want to have you around all the time, honestly, you’re amazing.” Aidan says and makes a face, because it sounded wrong, given their complicated relationship. “Sorry. You know what I mean.”

“Yeah. Sadly I do.” Dean agrees and then quickly changes the subject to things he is going to pick up from Aidan’s flat to bring over.

“By the way,” Dean says when he is on his way out the door. “Luke and I broke up last night. I know this isn’t the right time, but I thought you should know. Just in case.”

He doesn’t give Aidan time to react to the news and quickly closes the door behind him. It is probably better that way, because Aidan has no idea what to say. 

 

The rest of the morning is a mixture of sleeping, doctors and nurses. The police stops by to question him, and it is frustrating, how little he can tell them. They leave a number to call, should he recall anything else. It’s all he does, trying to remember – when he doesn’t wonder how he feels about Dean’s news. It is driving him insane to the point where he has to get out of bed. He goes to the bathroom and sees himself in the mirror for the first time. The word grotesque comes to mind. The person looking back at him looks vaguely familiar, but that guy in the mirror should be in a world of pain and Aidan really isn’t. He touches the side of his face. It is warm and throbbing under his fingertips, but completely numb. He couldn’t even tell if the hand touching his skin is warm or cold. The entire thing is so surreal, he doesn’t even know if he wants to laugh or cry at the state of his face and decides that ignoring the hell out of the situation might be the best plan. It’s not like he can do anything about the stitches on the inside of his bottom lip, or the swelling around his left eye that makes his difficult to see. He can’t do anything about the dislocated shoulder or the broken ulna either, so why would he want to deal with it at all?

He leaves the bathroom and shuffles at snails speed all the way to the visitor’s lounge where he asks a nurse about a smoking area, but after telling him off for leaving the bed unsupervised she explains to him, that the hospital runs a zero-tolerance policy on smoking and that he would have to leave the hospital grounds. It sounds like a lot of effort, especially considering that he would have to go out in public in nothing but a hospital gown. Muttering to himself about how a hospital is supposed to make people feel better and not add nicotine withdrawal to their worries, he returns to his room instead.

 

In the afternoon he gets a surprise visit from Adam.

“Honey, you look like shit,” is the first thing he says and Aidan’s mood improves immediately.

“The fuck are you doing here? I thought I could finally have some peace and quiet!”

“Graham,” Adam replies and gives Aidan a careful but somehow still warm hug.

“I’m really happy to see you, but so much for doctor-patient-confidentiality,” Aidan sighs, but can’t hide a smile. He forgot that Adam’s fiancée works at the hospital. Not in patient care though, Aidan already checked that, hoping to get a chance to make fun of Graham in a hot nurse’s outfit. Other than that he never paid that much attention to what Graham does. He thinks that this might be a clue as to why they don’t have a lot to bond over. 

“Graham’s not a doctor so it doesn’t apply in this case,” Adam decides. “You know, you really could have made more of an effort.” Adam inspects Aidan’s grimy hands with a raised eyebrow. “Hang on.”

He wanders off only to return a few minutes later with a bowl of water, soap and some towels. He sets the bowl down on Aidan’s lap and hops onto the bed next to him. While Aidan soaks his hands in the water, Adam gently scrubs at his face, the same way Dean did the day before. 

“What is all this?” Adam scrunches up his nose as he runs a strand of hair repeatedly though the towel. Aidan is pretty sure that if it isn’t blood, his blood, he doesn’t want to know what else is caked in his hair. He just wants it gone.

“Dean and Luke broke up,” he says instead.

Adam makes a thoughtful humming sound.

“How do you feel about that?”

“I don’t know. I was hoping _you_ would tell _me_.”

“Hmm,” Adam makes again and pushes his thick glasses up his nose. “You are sad that a relationship ended, but you are happy that you can be with Dean now.”

“No.” That’s not it. Happy is not a word that Aidan would use to describe his feeling. Scared as hell, maybe. Terrified. That sounds about right. He doesn’t know if he wants to be with Dean, that’s the point. While Dean was with Luke there wasn’t a problem, because Dean was unavailable anyway. Now that the situation has changed, there is a problem. Aidan might be madly in love with Dean, but he isn’t at all in love with the idea of being in a relationship. He has never needed one and if he tries to date Dean, he will surely fuck it up. Either that or Dean will realise that he can’t date a prostitute after all. Their friendship will be ruined either way, so why risk it?

He puts it into words as best as he can for Adam to understand.

“If messing it up is what you’re worried about, I only have one suggestion. _Talk_ to Dean, for fucks sake! Sit down with him and talk!”

Aidan opens his mouth. He wants to say that talking about his feelings isn’t easy, but he decides to close his mouth again, because if the said that, Adam would sure punch him. Injuries or not.

“And about dating a prostitute,” Adam’s voice becomes a bit softer, “maybe it’s time for you to find something else? In the light of what’s happened. Not just because of Dean.”

“I don’t know, maybe.” Aidan shrugs his uninjured shoulder. He can’t really see himself do anything else. He doesn’t have any skills and the thought of being stuck eight hours a day in an underpaid, unsatisfying job makes him contemplate suicide. He also feels like quitting now is admitting defeat. Like falling off a horse, he has to get up, dust himself off and ride the next guy. “I don’t think I should make any life changing decisions right now.”

 

After Adam leaves, Aidan sleeps again. He can’t remember that he has ever slept this much in his life and he still feels exhausted and irritable when he wakes up. The doctors told him that this was pretty much expected and that he should get used to sleeping a lot and feeling cranky and emotional for a while.

On his bedside table he notices a large envelope that he picks up and turns upside down. The keys for his flat, his mobile, his wallet, a pack of smokes, some toiletries and a note tumble into his lap.

“Didn’t want to wake you. Call me when you get out tomorrow, I’ll pick you up. Dean”

He barely skims over the words, his attention is focussed on the phone. He briefly wonders if he is allowed to use a mobile inside the hospital, but then again, he doesn’t really care. There is a piece to solving the puzzle at his fingertips. He ignores the missed calls and messages and goes straight to his last conversations with Iago.

Sent Mar 23, 2014 10:06 PM - “ok” 

Received Mar 25, 2014 1:52 PM - “Andrew will meet you at 8.30 not 8.” 

Sent Mar 25, 2014 1:54 PM - “got it” 

Sent Mar 25, 2014 8:36 PM - “ok” 

Sent Mar 26, 2014 4:11 PM - “ok” 

Sent Mar 27, 2014 5:56 AM - “ok” 

Sent Mar 27, 2014 5:14 PM - “help” 

The word jumps out at him, with everything else turning blurry in his vision. 

“Help”. It is so clear and simple. There is no way to misunderstand or misinterpret that word. He asked for help and was completely ignored without even so much as an explanation. Not even an excuse. Nothing. 

It makes him feel sick and betrayed. A proper savecall might have made the difference between getting pushed around a bit and waking up in the hospital with amnesia. He is so angry, he slams it into his leg a few times, hardly noticing the pain. It doesn’t matter anymore. What is a little pain compared to having the rug pulled from under his feet? 

He tightens his grip around the phone so hard, it hurts and when that doesn’t help, he hurls it against the wall.

He wants to get out and find Iago wherever he is and punch him again and again until he knows what it’s like, but he can’t, he is helpless, stuck in bed and so angry that he is shaking.

“Fuck you,” he whispers over and over as he curls into a protective ball as much as his sore body allows, “fuck you, you motherfucking cunt.”

He doesn’t know how long he lies there unable to move, unable to breathe and sure that he is going to die. He knows that the heart pounding in his chest will stop any second now and he can’t do anything about it. He knows that he is going to die in a hospital bed alone and scared – until the feeling is gone as unexpectedly as it came. 

A nurse rolls him onto his back and unfolds his limbs gently. There is a doctor who tells Aidan that he was given some medication to help him relax and was the panic attack triggered by his memory returning? Would he like to talk to a psychiatrist?  
No. Aidan wants to talk to a hitman, but he keeps that to himself. He is too calm now to get upset again. He feels like the lights are on, but no one is home. There may be someone locked in the cellar, screaming and raging, but none of that gets through to the outside.

“You can relax now, love,” the nurse says in a warm, reassuring tone, “your Dad’s here now.”

“Wha’?” The nurse moves away to let Aidan see the man standing by the door. Aidan would have been less surprised, had it been his father visiting. “Jimmy.”

He scrambles to sit up properly. As much as he likes Jimmy, a client should never see him weak and vulnerable. A big part of being a successful prostitute is to keep up an illusion of perfection. Even when Aidan is casual around Jimmy, he is still on, he is still that little bit more graceful, more flawless than he would be in real life.

“Fuck,” he says and thinks he must have missed something. He can’t think of a single reason why Jimmy would be here, but then again, his head feels like it’s wrapped in cottonballs and his thoughts are very sluggish. “Was there something on the news?”  
“And hello to you, too,” Jimmy replies, good naturedly as always. He asks a lot of questions, but soon realises that it becomes exceedingly difficult for Aidan to reply, so Jimmy just talks instead.

“I was having a pint with my friend Martin yesterday. He’s with the police, you know, in your area and he tells me about this Irish lad who got beaten up in his own home. And he says, can you believe it, Jimmy, he says, the lad is a prostitute.” Jimmy gives Aidan’s hand an affectionate squeeze. “I tried to get in touch with you, just to make sure you’re okay, so when I couldn’t reach you at all,” Jimmy points at the broken remainders of Aidan’s phone that someone swept up and put on the nightstand. It makes Aidan realize that he didn’t just destroy the bad messages. In his rage he severed the ties to all the people he actually likes as well, without checking for messages and calls from them. “I put two and two together and tried to find you.”

Aidan tries his new lopsided smile. It is kind of touching that Jimmy cares enough about him to go through all the trouble of finding him. It does make him wonder about the concept of privacy in this country if not only one, but two people could find out his location within less than a day. He feels slightly stalked, but that still doesn’t change the fact that it is a nice gesture.  
“So what’s the story, when are you going to get out?”

“Tomorrow, I guess.” Aidan says. “They want to keep me around, I think, because I’m cute and the doctor is lonely.”

“I’m glad to see you haven’t lost your humor,” Jimmy says affectionately and promises to bring Aidan one of his old mobiles to use.

It isn’t even an hour later, when a courier brings Aidan a brand new iPhone, some books and lost of chocolate. He doesn’t know what he did to deserve that amount of kindness, but he doesn’t dare questioning it. Instead he puts his old SIM card into the new phone, delighted that at least the card still works and he doesn’t have to go through the hassle of getting a new one.  
In the evening he gets another text.

“Where the fuck are you? Client called saying you’re a no show! You are still paying me for this!”

Iago doesn’t even acknowledge his call for help and it brings Aidan close to losing it again, but this time he manages to keep himself calm enough by taking deep controlled breaths. Now that he’s had the time to process everything he learned today, he knows that there is only one thing left to do for him, even though the knowledge doesn’t make it less scary.

“Fuck you.” Send.

“Do him yourself.” Send.

“I QUIT!”

Send.


	8. You’re big in Japan

_“Open your mouth, bitch!” The slap that follows stings, but isn’t hard enough to do any damage. Not yet. He is on his knees, his hands tied behind his back with his own shirt, so real damage is definitely a possibility. Still Aidan won’t give up without a fight. He sent a text calling for help to Iago, so he only has to stick it out until Iago’s guys arrive._

He should have taken Dean up on his offer to pick him up from the hospital. He should have agreed to Adam’s suggestion to stay with him and Graham for a couple of days. In retrospect, both sound like very reasonable ideas, compared to sitting in his flat alone, jumping at the slightest noise. Then again, he can’t count on them constantly. They have got their own lives and it is time for him to get a grip of his as well. Yeah, so, he is unemployed, he looks like shit and feels like death warmed over, but at least his memory is coming back in little bits and pieces, so he has that going for him. Who wouldn’t want to replay scenes of their own rape in their head?

_“Hi, I’m Aidan. Please, come in.”_

_The guy is tall and wearing a tight white t-shirt that shows off his muscular chest and tattooed arms. He is wearing a baseball cap and Ray-Ban aviators. It’s not unusual for clients to cover their faces, even though it makes them look so much more suspicious to the casual observer._

_The guy foregoes any introduction and slaps Aidan’s butt instead when he closes the door. Aidan counts silently to three and has the biggest smile on his face, when he turns back around._

_“You’re very eager.” He brushes against the guy as he walks past him and turns his head to look over his shoulder. “I like that.”_

_“You’re not supposed to,” the guy follows Aidan and grabs him. He pulls him against his chest and whispers in his ear, “you are just a little slut.”_

_“I am,” Aidan replies, getting into character. He struggles in the man’s grip, “accidentally” rubbing his arse against his dick. If he is supposed to re-enact the worst scenes of every porno movie ever, he is going to give it his best shot. “I just can’t help myself.”_

_He turns around in the man’s arms, facing him._

_“When I see a man like you I get so horny.” He raises his hand to take off the guy’s sunglasses, but it is slapped away harshly._

_“Don’t touch me, you fucking whore.”_

_This time Aidan pushes away from the guy earnestly and gets a few steps between them._

_“Why don’t we get the formalities out of the way first?” It is not really a question and Aidan drops the character to speak in a calm but strong voice. “And discuss some ground rules.”_

_“You want money?” The guy approaches slowly._

_“Yes, I do.” He remains standing in his place firmly until the guy pushes him against the wall._

_“You haven’t even done anything to earn it, yet.” He fists his hand into his hair, yanking his head back. “You disgusting, filthy slut.” There is real loathing is his expression as he looks at Aidan and then spits on his face._

_The saliva is warm and slimy as it drips down the side of Aidan’s cheek._

_“Get out!” He growls, almost too surprised and too angry to get the words out clearly, so he tries again, louder and more forceful this time. “Get out of my flat!”_

_“Yeah, I don’t think I will,” the guy punches Aidan, almost hard enough to knock him out. He sinks to the floor. “Actually, the party is just getting started.”_

_The guy walks back to the front door. Aidan fumbles for his phone and types “help” almost blindly, before he crawls into the bedroom to hide._

 

The first day back at home isn’t too bad. He is so drugged that he doesn’t feel anything at all and spends the entire day on the couch between being asleep and awake with all ten seasons of “Friends” on his hard drive. Adam and Dean both call him during the day, but his side of the conversation is limited to hm’s and uhm’s. He honestly can’t say what they talked about even a second after hanging up.

The days after that are a blur and he often doesn’t know if it’s night or day, as the curtains in his living room keep out all the light. He hasn’t actually brought up the courage to go into the bedroom at all. Even though someone – Dean most likely – has tried to clean it up, the wallpaper in the hall is decorated with bloody handprints and that is enough to give Aidan chills. He is aware that it is probably not the best way to handle the situation and that he has to go in there at some point, but he is determined to avoid it for as long as possible.

Sometimes he ventures as far as the kitchen for a slice of toast, only because his pills are meant to be taken with food, not because he is hungry. Basically all he wants is to sit in the dark, hidden under a thick blanket and feel miserable. Sadly, his friends won’t let him. 

“Hey, how are you?” Dean texts him on Sunday morning.

“Do you need anything at all? Any help, groceries or someone to talk?” he adds in the afternoon.

“I’m okay,” Aidan sends back, “Tired and need a couple of days to myself.”

“I’m worried about you. If you need anything, just shout. No matter how big or small or what time it is. I’ll come.”

Aidan is touched once again and doesn’t know what to say. He isn’t used to anyone caring about him for no reason. It kind of makes him angry that Dean makes him feel like that even though he just tries to be nice. "Look, just leave me alone right now," he sends back. He slightly regrets it as soon as he hits send, but then again, he can't really worry about Dean's feelings right now. It’s different with Adam. They’ve had each other’s backs from day one and they have always taken care of each other no questions asked. Because of that Aidan can’t fool Adam as easily as Dean. Adam knows him too well to buy any of the “I need time to myself” excuses and promises to stop by soon. To Aidan it sounds more like a threat than a promise.

Even Jimmy sends him a couple of texts and his suggestion to come over with a bottle of Jameson 18-year-old, is the most appealing out of them all. Then again, you really shouldn’t drink the good stuff to drown your sorrows, so he declines the offer as well and crawls back into his blanket cocoon. He has figured out how to take a shower without getting the cast and his sling wet and while his face is still a rainbow of bruises, the swelling is going down. The pain all over his body fades to a dull constant companion and even though he should be happy about the improvements, he can’t snap out of the moody, lethargic state he is in. 

He knows he should get up and join the world of the living soon, but he just can’t. In the end, it is a call from the police that gets him off the sofa. New information about his attack has been discovered and they ask him to come down to the station urgently.

He needs fresh clothes to go out of the door, as much is clear to him, so encouraged by the prospect of finding more pieces of the puzzle, he cautiously enters the bedroom. He is almost disappointed by the lack of response from his sub-consciousness. There is no powerful flashback, no sudden rush of memories from the night of his attack. He can see that Dean tried to clean up the stains of the beige area rug. Sitting on the bedside table is a broken lamp and the sad remainders of his Vasa ship in a bottle. He moves to pick it up, when he notices something else on the table. A spider gag that sure isn’t his. He owns a regular ring gag, simply because it is a standard piece of inventory, but he doesn’t particularly like them. They make the wearer – him, usually – drool uncontrollably and they are uncomfortable as well. Spider gags are particularly nasty, though. They have hooks on the side, the so called spider legs, that prevent the ring from getting flipped in the mouth horizontally in case of an emergency. A spider gag is not meant to be decorative, it means business.

Aidan runs his fingers over the leather straps and the cool metal ring. He wouldn’t call it a memory exactly, but he can feel his chest tighten at the touch and he wants it as far away from him as possible.

 

He waits almost half an hour at the police station before DCI or DI or DUI Freeman makes an appearance. He has the look of a man who has pulled few all-nighters in a row, but he still has a kind smile for Aidan when he greets him with a firm handshake. He even asks how Aidan is getting on and if he is recovering okay.

“I’m afraid, I have some concerning news,” Freeman says as he settles down behind his desk. He picks up a file and reads from it. “Jolanta Aleksandra Olszowy, do you know her?”

Aidan looks up at the ceiling as he thinks about it, but the name doesn’t sound familiar.

“She worked for Peter Schmidt as a housekeeper.”

“Who?”

“Your agent,” Freeman says drily and Aidan’s jaw drops. He can’t combine the image of the fabulous, over the top Iago with the name Peter Schmidt. It’s hilarious, but not the point right now.

“Yeah, Jola, of course I know her!”

“She was found dead two days ago.”

“What? No!” The news hits him like a punch. He looks at Freeman in disbelief, hoping to see a sign that he either misheard or that this is just a very poor attempt at a joke.

“I’m very sorry,” he says gravely. “We are in the process of translating her diary, which led us to a breakthrough in your case.”

Freeman continues to explain that Jola was an illegal immigrant and scared to go to the police when she repeatedly found evidence of Iago’s activities besides running the agency while cleaning his study. 

“She wrote that you were one of the few people who were nice to her.”

“I wasn’t.” Aidan shakes his head almost confused. He shared the chocolates he got from a client with her once and sometimes they chatted a little while smoking a cigarette together, but he could have been a lot nicer. He could have shown an interest in her life. He could have bothered to find out her real name!

“Well, she thought so and finding the video of your attack seemed to have tipped the scales.”

The thoughts tumble, while Aidan tries to process everything. Iago’s involvement in his rape, the fact that there is a video of it. Jola’s death and the loud voice inside his head that screams “she died because of you”.

Of course the police can’t be sure, but they assume Jola finally decided to take the evidence but was caught and killed before she could tell anyone about it. Still, they were able to find pictures she took on her phone, which led them to several websites.

“They are mostly aimed at overseas markets and it appears that your video in particular has been very popular with the anti-gay groups.”

Aidan leans forward in his chair, his uninjured arm on his knees and takes a deep breath.

“I know this is a lot to take in and I strongly suggest that you talk to someone to…”

“Can I see it?” Aidan interrupts. The doctor at the hospital already gave him names of psychiatrist and Adam recommended someone as well, but he doesn’t want to see someone. What are they going to do anyway? They can’t make everything magically go away. They will make him talk about it. They will tell him to stop working, but he tried that after he was drugged and that didn’t make him feel any better about the situation, so there really isn’t a point going down the same route again.

He can see the hesitation on Freeman’s face.

“It is rather disturbing,” he says. “No, actually, it is really, really fucked up.” He still pulls the keyboard on his desk closer and types. He turns the screen around for Aidan to see. Some of the text on the page is English, but most of it is written in a language Aidan can’t read. He doesn’t need to read, though. The pictures in the banner on top that show young men with huge, fear filled eyes as they are getting beaten and humiliated and the picture of a burning rainbow flag say more than enough. 

The video itself is titled “English fag gets gay beaten out of him”. 

“I’m not English,” Aidan comments and wishes that getting his nationality wrong was the worst thing. He gives Freeman a nod to encourage him to press play.

The video starts with Aidan already naked and bound on his knees. There are two men, both naked from the waist down, one in front of him, the other behind him, rubbing his cock against Aidan’s head. They humiliate him, spit on him and slap him with their hands and their dicks and even though Aidan can see himself right there in the scene, it could have been someone else. He just doesn’t recall any of it. He didn’t even know that there were two guys and a cameraman. They are only shown from their torso’s down, so there is no way to identify them.

“Open your mouth, bitch!” The slap comes and Aidan does as he is told. The guy pushes his cock in as far as it goes in one smooth motion without any warning. Aidan sees himself in the video gag and struggle to breathe.

“Ow, fuck you!” The guy pulls out again and inspects his cock carefully. “This bitch’s a biter, innit!”

Freeman actually smiles a little at that.

“Well deserved,” he says. Aidan nods absently. He can’t stop staring at the screen.

The other guy comes around and slaps Aidan hard across the face and then the spider gag comes out. They try to force it in his mouth and Aidan can see the exact moment one of the legs get caught and almost pierces through his bottom lip. He runs his tongue over the sutures inside his mouth. They get it in at last and take a moment to delight in the sight of blood, before they take turns fucking Aidan’s mouth through the gag.

So far Aidan thinks he handled the video pretty well, but the sound is starting to become too much. It sounds a lot like using a plunger on a clogged drain as their cocks push down his throat. It makes him feel nauseated and he has to ask Freeman to turn down the volume all the way.

“We are doing everything we can to have the video removed from the internet,” Freeman says gently, “and to find those arseholes.”

Aidan nods again. The video keeps playing in the background.

“The other videos feature women in similar situations and they have been sold to various fetish websites. It looks like Schmidt is trying to increase his earnings by targeting a new market with this video.”

The first guy finishes on his face and mouth. It makes Aidan’s skin crawl to see the mixture of blood and sperm. The initial HIV test he received at the hospital came back negative, but he still needs to go back for a second test after 90 days and until he holds the negative result from that test in his hands, he knows he is going to worry about it.

“Did you talk to Iago – I mean Schmidt – about it?” Aidan asks. It seems obvious, so it surprises him that Freeman hasn’t brought it up.

“We haven’t been able to find him,” Freeman replies and there is a hint of bitterness in his voice. Iago had called Aidan twice after he sent him the text message quitting his job, but Aidan never picked up the phone. Getting into an argument with Iago when he isn’t in shape was a very bad idea, so he did the cowardly thing and ignored the calls completely.

The other guy comes onto him as well, coating his hair in thick white fluid. The camera closes in on his face and he will never forget the terror in his eyes. They beat him up more and Aidan can watch his shoulder slipping out of place and it is not difficult to pinpoint when he breaks his arm. In the end, they bash his head against the nightstand and finally, after 32 minutes, the video goes black.

Aidan lowers his eyes to look at his trembling hands. He knows he should be scared and shocked, but most of all, he is angry. At Iago, at the guys who made the video, at the people who think it is okay and right to do something like that simply because they can. 

“I have to go,” he says abruptly and gets up from his chair. He can’t be around people anymore who look at him with pity in their eyes all “aww, look at the poor, damaged whore”, but secretly thinking he deserves all this. “Thanks for…” He gestures at the computer. 

Freeman shakes Aidan’s hand again and holds on to it.

“Promise me that you will speak to someone and get professional help.” Freeman is one of those people who don’t accept bullshit from anyone and the way he looks at Aidan now makes it impossible to say anything but “I promise”.

 

He almost gets home and back to the safety of his flat, when he bumps into Adam who is just leaving the building.

“What happened?” Adam asks immediately. “You don’t look like you’ve seen a ghost, you look like you _are_ the ghost.”

“Go away.” He doesn’t want to be mean, he just can’t have anyone around right now. 

“Let me just get you upstairs and then I’ll go,” Adam promises, but of course, he doesn’t. He gets Aidan settled on the couch and makes him a cup of tea that is pretty much just hot milk and sugar with a hint of tea flavour.

“Do you have anything in the fridge other than alcohol, Red Bull and a single orange?”

“They’re good for you. They have vitamins and stuff.”

“Well, I didn’t really have a problem with the orange.” 

Aidan has his back against the armrest and his feet on the couch in a very protective position. Adam sits down with his shoulder against his shins.

“So where were you?”

“Police station,” Aidan replies darkly, blowing into his cup.

“Any news?” Adam shakes a Digestive biscuit – the one with chocolate – out of the plastic wrapping and gives it to Aidan. It is a little stale from being in the cupboard for ages, but still good, especially after the toast diet he has been on for the last few days.

“Jola’s dead,” he whispers, but doesn’t add the “because of me”, because Adam would find some smart, reasonable argument to convince him that it is not his fault.

“What? How?”

“Strangled.” He stares into his cup and then he starts talking. He hardly even pauses to take a breath. He just tells Adam everything he learned today in a stream of consciousness kind of monologue, jumping back and forth and finishing with the tragic loss of his ship in a bottle.

Adam wraps his arms around Aidan’s calves and hugs his legs tightly.

“You need to remember that most people are actually cool and decent, so almost no one is going to see the video… Is that kind of a silver lining?”

“No.”

“Yeah. Sorry.”

They sit in silence for a while and Aidan wonders if he will ever be his old self again. He liked his old self, he was happy and fun to be around, not this moping mess.

“Maybe I should go away for a while,” Aidan says finally. “In the hospital Jimmy told me about his business trip to California. He said I could go with him.”

“I think that’s a great idea. Going somewhere, I mean. I’m not so sure if you should be going with a client, though.”

It is something that Aidan has been worried about as well. The boundaries seem very unclear and basically it is the Dean situation all over again, but he really wants to get out of London for a while and travelling alone doesn’t seem very appealing, especially with his left arm pretty much useless.

“Would you be mad if I went? I mean, I guess there is some Best Man stuff I need to be doing before the wedding.”

Adam presses a kiss onto Aidan’s knee.

“You mean you won’t throw me a stag night?” He tilts his head to the side. “I’ll survive. If it helps you get better.”


	9. Here there be monsters

Aidan wakes up to the sun streaming in through thin curtains that sway gently in the breeze, the sound of the ocean and seagulls going about their business. He feels warm and rested and even his shoulder isn’t giving him as much grief as usual. He wonders if it is the change in climate, the impossibly comfortable bed or the change in his attitude. He is relaxed and he’s had enough of being sick and depressed. He stretches idly and thinks that the only possible way to improve waking up like this would be morning sex, sweet, lazy, sleepy sex with lots of cuddles and kisses. 

He might not be ready for it quite yet and he is alone in bed, anyway, but he sees it as a good sign that the thought doesn’t repulse him immediately.

He sits up and has a look around. The bedroom is large kept in a beige and white colour scheme. A little impersonal, maybe. There are no photos, none of those little knick knacks that just find their way onto a shelf to collect dust. Then again, Aidan never expected that Jimmy had a house in California at all. Until the taxi stopped in the driveway, he was convinced they would stay at a hotel. It was dark when they arrived and Aidan was tired and moody so he didn’t really take in much of the house. Now he can’t wait to see more. If the bedroom is any indication of what the rest of the house is like, he is in for a treat.

There are two soft chairs by the window and a coffee table with a red orchid in the centre. Propped up against the vase is an envelope that says “Aidan” in Jimmy’s scrawly handwriting. 

Aidan climbs out of bed and picks up the letter.

“Good morning, a Ghrá mo Chroí!” Aidan smiles at the endearment. The Irish may not be big contenders in international competitions in general, but when it comes to the sexiest language, they win hands down. “I had to go to work, but I’ll try to be back early. Make yourself at home and if you need anything talk to Louise next door, she looks after the house when I’m not here and she’s grand. J.”

Aidan puts the note back on the table and opens the curtains. The view momentarily takes his breath away. The deep blue ocean goes all the way to the horizon and sparkles in the sunlight. He steps out onto the balcony that has pink and peach coloured hibiscus flowers in planters all around. He walks to the rail and looks down. The house is built on the edge of a cliff. Below is a sandy beach where a couple is walking hand in hand.

He leans on the rail and for a moment he just enjoys the sun on his face and the wind ruffling his hair and the feeling of serenity. It is something he hasn’t felt in a long time. It is easy to forget sometimes to take a break in a city as busy and competitive as London.

He watches the waves and a little boat all the way in the distance wonders what Jimmy might expect from him in return for all this. He didn’t let Aidan pay for his own flight and obviously, he can stay at his house for free and he made it very clear that, should they have sex, he would pay for it as usual. It doesn’t make sense to Aidan. No one is that nice without expecting anything in return.

He finally tears his eyes away from the sea and goes to explore the rest of the house. It dawns on him, while he wonders through the living room that Jimmy doesn’t just have money, he must be filthy rich!

The entire house is decorated so tastefully and looks so expensive, Aidan is actually a little hesitant to touch anything. He doesn’t even dare to press any buttons on the coffee machine and makes do with instant coffee he finds on the shelf. 

He takes his cup out into the garden, where he finds an amazing rock swimming pool that on top of everything else, has a waterfall. 

“What the…” He can only shake his head at the entire thing. This is how movie stars live, not middle aged men from fucking Ballymena. 

He hears a dog barking in the garden next door and looks over the stone wall that comes up to his hip. The dog is one of those black ones that look like scotty dogs, but a little taller. Aidan has no idea what breed that might be, but the way it’s yapping at a seagull which remains to be unimpressed is kind of endearing. 

“Toby!” An old lady appears in the neighbouring garden. She seems very stern until she spots Aidan and her entire face lights up. 

“Hello Sweetheart!” she says with a warm smile. She slowly makes her way closer to the wall with the help of a cane to shake Aidan’s hand. Her grip is surprisingly firm for such a fragile old lady. “I’m Louise and that little nuisance over there is Toby. I hope he didn’t wake you.”

Aidan looks down at the shirt and shorts he slept in. He is pretty sure that his hair is a mess and that this isn’t the best first impression.

“Sorry,” he says a little bashful and at least makes an attempt to comb through is hair with his fingers. “I think I’m still a little tired.”

“Of course you are, honey. Jimmy told me that you were you were quite unwell for a while. An accident, was it?” 

“Yeah,” Aidan replies and there is a hint of bitterness in his voice. He glares down at his cast. “An accident.” 

“You poor thing. Look at you.” She reaches over the fence to take Aidan’s wrist and examine it closely. “All skin and bones. You must be hungry. I’m going to make you some nice pancakes. Come on, Toby.”

Aidan decides he likes her. Someone who makes breakfast for him can’t be all bad.

 

In the afternoon he takes Toby down to the beach to play fetch. Being with the dog and laughing at him when he chases after beach birds and barks at the waves is the final push he needed to feel genuinely good. He’s not cured. The physical scars are still very visible and the emotional damage is just temporarily buried underneath a layer of sun, sand and seawater, but that doesn’t mean that he can’t enjoy it while it lasts.

He doesn’t know what time it is, but the sun is setting already, when Jimmy joins him.

“Wow. Who are you and what have you done with Aidan?” Aidan lets Toby have the stick they were fighting over and greets Jimmy with a hug and a kiss on the cheek. “You look fantastic. Although I think you may have burned your nose.”

Aidan wrinkles his nose experimentally and Jimmy is probably right. A little sunburn doesn’t bother him much, it usually fades very quickly and leaves him looking healthy and like he lives an active, outdoorsy lifestyle. He is rather white and pasty when he misses a spray tan, but he doesn’t have the stereotypical pale, freckly, pink skin loads of Irish people have and he can’t count the times he has been thankful for that. 

“You look tired, though. Rough day?” He loosens Jimmy’s tie and it is almost shocking how easily Aidan finds it to slip back into his old role.

“The first day’s always bad,” Jimmy explains. “Jetlag.”

“I don’t understand why you go back at all. If this was my house, I’d never leave.”

“Well, I have to, don’t I? Otherwise I won’t get to see you.” Jimmy gently wraps his arm around Aidan’s waist as they make their way back to the house. 

They invite Louise, her son and his wife who are both around Jimmy’s age and live down the road over to have a barbeque and then they spend the rest of the evening curled up on the sofa. Aidan has his head in Jimmy’s lap as they watch a football game on the telly.

There is a tightness growing in Aidan’s chest. Jimmy is lovely, he is running his fingers through Aidan’s hair lightly and asks him if he needs anything again and again throughout the evening, but Aidan is still tense. The feelings he forgot about all day creep back, now that he is alone with Jimmy and they are getting a little more intimate with each other. 

He knows that Jimmy doesn’t expect anything from him, no sex, no blowjobs, not even a quick handjob, but Aidan is starting to wonder if that isn’t exactly what would make him feel better. More normal and less like a snowflake wrapped up in cotton wool. He is a prostitute, he has sex, that’s just how it is. He can’t be scared of the thing that defines him more than anything else.

“Will you come to bed with me?” He doesn’t know if he can go through with it, but he wants to give it a try at least.

“If I ever say no to that, kill me, all right?” Jimmy grins and follows Aidan to the bedroom.

They don’t have sex. 

They kiss and fondle and Aidan is both disappointed and relieved at the same time.

 

The next morning is as gorgeous as the previous and Aidan is up early. He gathers a few things from around the house – a beach towel, sunscreen, a bottle of water, his Ipod and, most importantly, pen and paper – and goes down to the beach. He finds a place that is a little secluded and after splashing around in the water with his feet for a while he decides that it is time to get to work.

Writing a best man speech, how difficult can it be?

He sits and stares at the notepad in his hands for at least ten minutes before he slowly scrawls “Love” on top of the page. It seems like a topic to touch on. Then again, he doesn’t know anything about love. He came close to experiencing it, but he fucked that up, undoubtedly. He doesn’t know exactly how, but Dean must have realised by now that Aidan is not someone to keep around. That doesn’t make him miss Dean any less, though. He thinks about him, when he sees the sun making the ocean shine like diamonds or when the sea washes a piece of driftwood onto the sand. He knows that Dean would just love to photograph it, or pick it up and take it home to hang it in his living room. When he thinks of Dean, his stomach flutters and he can’t stop himself from smiling. He adds “sucks” to the page. 

What does love even think it’s doing? You think you found the one, but he doesn’t want you and when he does, everything changes again and you don’t want him anymore. And it comes at the most inconvenient times, when you aren’t even looking for someone and suddenly you would do anything for that guy… except tell him how you feel. 

Aidan drops the pen in his lap and looks at the words.

“Except tell him how you feel…”

“… tell him how you feel.”

“… tell him.” 

“All right, I got it,” Aidan tells the piece of paper and picks up his phone. 

“Dean?” he types and waits for the reply for what feels like an eternity, but is probably more like two minutes, which is all the more impressive considering the time difference.

“Yeah?”

Aidan chews on his bottom lip, while he thinks about what he wants to say.

“I’m really sorry,” he finally writes. “I’ve been a giant dick.” It’s the truth. He never really thanked Dean properly for everything he did for him. He didn’t talk to Dean about the break-up with Luke, which must have been a difficult time for him. Aidan sees all the things he did wrong now, when there are continents between them.

“You really were,” Dean replies and Aidan is glad that he isn’t patronising him by saying that his behaviour is excused, because he was sick and injured, but Dean could have sugar coated it just a little. 

“Thanks” comes quickly after that, accepting the apology. 

“Dean?” Aidan texts again after a moment.

“Yeah?”

“If the offer still stands, I would love to go on a date with you.” He sends the message and collapses onto his back with a sigh. He can’t sit there and stare at the screen while all the possible answers from “I’m back with Luke” to “lol” to “aren’t you kind of damaged goods now” to complete and utter silence cross his mind.

_Ping_

One more deep breath and he looks.

“Of course the offer still stands. You still owe me a drink, remember?”

 

Encouraged by his success with Dean, Aidan feels like he can accomplish anything today. Nothing can stop him today, so in the afternoon, when he has enough sand in his cast to fill a cat’s litter pan, he retreats to the house and opens Skype on his laptop.

“Are you busy?” he types into the chat box. 

“I’m at work,” Jimmy writes back. “So no.”

Aidan smiles and calls Jimmy for a video chat.

“Everything okay?”

“Yeah. Brilliant, actually.” Aidan beams and then turns his head to the side a little. “Except I’ve been missing you.”

“I miss you too,” Jimmy says clearly half focussed on something else he’s working on. “But I’ll have time for you all weekend.”

“I can’t wait that long.” He pulls his T-Shirt over his head and tosses it aside. There is still a large bruise on his left shoulder and his collarbones and ribs stick out more than they used to, thanks to Tesco’s Value Toast, but he thinks that maybe Jimmy won’t notice or care. 

“What are you doing?” At least he has Jimmy’s undivided attention now. He shrugs his shoulder innocently and brushes his hand over his chest. “Aidan, stop it! That’s very, very naughty.”

“I know,” Aidan replies with a wicked smile. “You can turn off the video at any point.”

“You just wait until I come home, young man,” Jimmy growls, but the corner of his eyes are crinkled with amusement.

“What? Are you gonna spank me?” It comes out so naturally, before Aidan even realises what he said it’s out there, causing an awkward pause. “Maybe not, I guess.”

So much for his plan to be cute and seductive, but he is not giving up yet. 

“Would you like to tell me what to do next?” Aidan continues to stoke his hand over his chest, teasing a nipple. Jimmy leans back in his office chair and steeples his fingers.

“I don’t think you are ready to…”

“Yes. Yes, I am. I am so ready.” Aidan interrupts and looks straight into the camera to get his point across. He is done feeling like a victim and afraid. He wants to get back to doing what he loves to do and what he is good at and this is the least threatening scenario imaginable. He can’t get hurt if the other person isn’t even in the same room. His heart it thumping in his chest, giving away that he doesn’t quite believe it himself, but he can push through it. 

He has to.

Jimmy nods and informs his secretary that he is in a client meeting via Skype and asks her to hold all calls. He puts on an over-ear headset that makes him look like a very successful businessman. Aidan’s favourite kind of man, to be honest. They tend to be kinky in a good way. He drops his hand into his lap just out of sight, but the way his upper arm moves as he rubs himself slowly doesn’t leave much to the imagination.

“That’s nice,” Jimmy comments. “Go on, take of your trousers.”

Aidan obeys, absolutely aware that Jimmy can see all of his lower body when he stands to peel of his cut-off jeans.

“Do you want to fuck me?” Aidan sits back down again and adjusts the angle of the camera slightly to give Jimmy a better view. Not showing everything, just enough to tease. 

“Oh, fuck, yes.” Jimmy shifts in his chair uncomfortably. “Your fingers. Get them nice and wet.”

He starts with his index finger, licking it all the way from the bottom to the tip before slipping it into his mouth to suck on it. He adds a second finger and pushes them slowly in and out. He keeps looking at himself in the preview window and is once again convinced that he is born to do this.

“Can I put them inside me now?”

The response from the other side of the city is a groan, which encourages Aidan. He has to adjust his body once again to get the fingers in. He places his feet on the desk on either side of the computer and half sits, half lies in the chair. An uncomfortable position for his shoulder, but it gives Jimmy a spectacular view.

His body jerks slightly has he pushes the fingers in. He missed this so much.

“Yes, fuck yourself,” Jimmy whispers encouragingly and Aidan follows his command, slowly sliding his fingers in and out. “Fuck, Aid…”

He can hear rustling and when he looks up, Aidan can see that Jimmy had his fist pressed to his mouth to keep himself quiet, while his right hand is jerking his cock. It is incredibly hot and Aidan forces himself to keep his eyes open and on the screen, while he rocks against his hand almost violently. The desk is shaking, the computer as shaking but they are both beyond caring. 

“I’m coming!” He has to pull his fingers out and wrap them around his cock for a few last strokes, before hot liquid finally spatters onto his stomach and the relief of the orgasm and the relief of sticking with this little adventure floods through his body. 

 

Living with Jimmy is surprisingly easy. Of course, he is at work a lot, but he also takes entire days off just for Aidan. He takes him to do all kinds of touristy things from visiting the Walk of Fame, to driving up the famous 101 to San Francisco for a weekend. 

They have real sex a few days after their Skype experiment and while it ends somewhere between an orgasm and a panic attack for Aidan, things improve from there and he finally gets his morning sex. Of course Jimmy still touches him with kid gloves, but they slowly get back to their normal routine. Almost normal - Aidan refuses to take money for the sex. Maybe it’s unprofessional, but frankly, he doesn’t give a fuck. Jimmy has helped him more than anyone else and this is the least he can do to repay him. Sure, Jimmy doesn’t really care about the money either way, but it’s a gesture Aidan wants to make.

 

It is almost their last evening together. The air is cool and fragrant after a heavy rain shower. They are sitting on the balcony, Jimmy is reading the paper on his IPad, occasionally reading things out loud for Aidan and asking his opinion. 

“Hmm,” is Aidan’s answer to most issues. They are halfway through their third bottle of wine and he feels like nothing he could say would be relevant or even halfway intelligent. Instead he unzips Jimmy’s trousers and pulls out his cock.

“What are you doing?”

“Nothing,” Aidan says innocently and closes his lips around the still soft flesh. He doesn’t want to give a blowjob, expecting the up and down motion to disagree with the wine. He just wants to play with Jimmy’s dick for a while. He doesn’t get to do the act of cockwarming often, because by definition it takes time and in his business time is definitely money, but he enjoys it, when he has the chance to go for it. He rests his cheek on Jimmy’s thigh and simply holds his dick in his mouth.

“Aidan, can I talk to you about something?” Jimmy asks after a while. Aidan flicks his eyes up to him. He sounds very serious all of a sudden.

“Hm?”

“My job is to make smart decisions for other people.” He still has no idea what exactly Jimmy does for a living. He thinks that it has probably something to do with investments, but he never asked. “I feel like I haven’t been making the best decisions for myself, lately.”

“How so?” Aidan sits up and climbs onto Jimmy’s lap, straddling him, to be able to look at him directly, if a little crossed eyed from the wine. He wraps his hand around Jimmy’s cock, trapped between their bodies.

“Do you know how much having a wife costs me?”

“Uh… no,” Aidan replies honestly. He remembers his girlfriend in school and his father sometimes slipping him a tenner so that Aidan could take her to the cinema. He can only assume that a woman who is accustomed to a certain lifestyle would require more than an occasional tenner to see a movie.

“My divorce is getting through soon,” Jimmy explains, but he doesn’t sound angry about it. “Which means I don’t have to spend all my money on her anymore. I’ve had this on my mind for quite a while, but I never thought you would agree until now.” 

His heart is skipping a few beats. If Jimmy is going to ask Aidan to marry him, he is going to drop dead on the spot, he is sure about that. 

“I would like to hire you full time.”

Aidan’s hand freezes between their bodies. That’s… different.

“You… uh, what?”

“I would like to pay you a monthly salary in return for, well, having you around.” Jimmy brushes his hands up Aidan’s thighs.

“Like a… sex slave?”

“Maybe more like a type of boyfriend, I suppose. I know that you are out of a job at the moment.”

Aidan nods, he had complained to Jimmy at length the problems he faced now that he didn’t work for Iago anymore. He either had to find another agency or go back to working independently without the security an agency – usually – offered.

“And you wouldn’t have to stop working altogether, you could still see a handful of regular clients, if you wanted.”

It does have a nice ring to it and Aidan thinks that he could be a very good boyfriend as long as there is no love involved whatsoever. It sounds really, really fucking good. He leans in and kisses Jimmy passionately, while his hand keeps stroking his cock in short quick strokes.

Yeah, he wants this. He wants to be with Jimmy and travel with him and fuck him and no one else. 

He twists his hand and Jimmy pulls him close as he comes. No one else, will ever grab him like this again and make these sounds for him.

 

But what about Dean?


	10. Nothing to lose this time

In Aidan’s absence London finally decided to start spring and it feels to him like he has been gone for a couple of years, not weeks. The grey, rainy city he left has woken up and is now bright and beautiful. Seeing the city change and blossom inspired Aidan to start with changes in his own life. 

He makes an appointment with a physical therapist for his shoulder and – a little embarrassed – with the psychiatrist Adam recommended. 

The next day, he goes to B&Q to buy carpet cleaner and paint. After looking at every single boring shade of beige he picks out a pot of vibrant emerald green. 

It might not have been his best idea to try and paint a wall when he can only use one hand, but he wants those bloodstains gone. He works slowly, but enthusiastically and actually finds the work calming. It keeps him busy, but it also gives him a chance to let his mind wander. It doesn’t take long before his thoughts land on Dean.

He hasn’t called him since he returned to London. Not because he doesn’t want to, he does, but he feels a little shy all of a sudden. Although Dean already told him that he would agree to a date, Aidan never had to ask for one and he doesn’t want to blow it. Not with Dean.

When he takes a break from painting, he picks up his phone and starts to type a text message first, but then reminds himself that he is not a sixteen year old girl and that he can actually talk to men, so he calls instead and he doesn’t regret his decision. It is brilliant to hear Dean’s voice again.

“Listen,” he says, after the mandatory small talk. “I wanted to ask, uhm, if you maybe wanted to do something this weekend. With me.”

“Smooth,” Dean comments with a laugh. “Did you practise that or do you just naturally have a way with words?”

“You’re not as funny as you think you are.”

“Come on, I’m hilarious. And I would love to do something. With you. But I have one condition.”

“Okay?” Aidan picks at a paint splatter on his jeans nervously. He is sure that Dean is going to tell him now that he is with a new girl. But it’s no problem because she’s open to threesomes or something equally devastating.

“I want to do something you have never done with a client before. So no dinner and movie and definitely no putting on drag and going to a gallery.”

“I only did that once! And what do you mean ‘definitely’?” He leans back in his chair relieved and finally happy to talk to Dean. Only when he hangs up the phone does he realise that he has already been on pretty much every date imaginable. 

 

This whole dating thing, Aidan thinks, is really damn nerve wrecking. Hanging out with Dean is easy and fun, but when you call it a date and make it all official you go from laid back to nerve wrecking. For example, if they were just hanging out and one of them had to cancel it’s no big deal, but cancelling a date, that’s a huge deal!

Luckily, it doesn’t come to that. Just when Aidan is checking his phone for the time and any messages for the hundredth time, Dean emerges from a group of tourists that remind Aidan of a mob of meerkats in the way they stick together and look around for their platforms at Victoria station.

“I hardly recognized you! You look so good!” Dean wraps his arms around Aidan and all of a sudden his doubts are gone. This is Dean and whatever you call it, a date or hanging out, it is going to be fun.

“I’ve had my five a day today,” Aidan grins sheepishly. Considering that the last time Dean saw him, he was in a hospital bed almost anything would be an improvement.

“Very commendable. So what are we doing?” 

Aidan told Dean to meet him at noon at Victoria Station, but didn’t give him any more information about the date, because he wanted it to be a surprise.

“It was really hard to come up with something new, so sorry, if this is rubbish.” He reaches into the plastic bag in his hand and pulls out two disposable cameras he just picked up at Boots as a last minute thought “I think we could become tourist for a day,” he explains and gives Dean one of the cameras along with a ticket for a hop on hop off sightseeing tour. 

Dean looks at the items in his hand and then back at Aidan with a smile on his face that makes the time Aidan spent figuring out what to do worth it.

While they wait for the next bus, Aidan notices that Dean takes every opportunity to subtly - and sometimes not so subtly – touch him. He places his hand on the piece of bare skin between Aidan’s sleeve and the top of his cast, when he asks about how the arm is healing and he actually runs his fingers through Aidan’s hair, to check for the scar there. 

On request, Aidan shows him the inside of his lip, the scar there is barely visible.

“Is it still sore?”

“Nah, it’s fine.” The shoulder is still a little painful, especially now that he is allowed to take the sling off when he is home, but the rest of his injuries are hardly bothering him anymore.

“So I won’t hurt you when I do this?” Dean stands on his tip toes to bridge the height difference between them and kisses Aidan. It’s just a quick, soft kiss, but it makes Aidan feel great and tingly.

“No pain,” he confirms when Dean pulls away. “But we should try again, just to be absolutely on the safe side.”

Dean laughs and kisses Aidan’s cheek instead.

“The bus is coming.”

They get seats in the back row and Aidan remembers the first two stops, Hyde Park and Speaker’s Corner. When they were going past Marble Arch, Dean leans over to get a better view and Aidan takes the opportunity for a surprise kiss. The rest of the tour is pretty much spent snogging and more or less blurry. At one point the tour guide suggests good-naturedly that they hop off the bus and get a room to hop onto each other and get it over with. They behave and keep their hands to themselves all the way from the South Bank Arts Centre to St. Paul’s Cathedral, but they quickly realise that it isn’t half as much fun without the kissing and get off the bus. 

“So… do you wanna come back to my place and continue where we left off?”

“Do I look like I would do that kind of thing on the first date?”

“I think that it is good to have sex on the first date. What if the guy turns out to have a tiny dick and you wasted your time going on three dates.” Maybe that is why he almost never gets to have a second date, Aidan thinks.

“I think I’ll take my chances,” Dean says with a smile. Aidan doesn’t get it. It’s not like they have never had sex before and Dean was the one who started the touching and the kissing. It is confusing, but if it is what Dean wants, Aidan can play that game as well.

“All right, then,” he says and gives Dean a kiss on the cheek. “Thank you for going out with me. We should do it again.”

“Aid, come on, it’s still early, we can do something else.”

“No, that’s okay. I actually have this guy waiting for me to call him back. Maybe he’s still free.” Aidan can see Dean’s jaw tighten and his eyes narrow dangerously. He pretends not to notice and pulls his phone out of his pocket. He knows his stunt could end badly, but with Dean he doesn’t even want to play it safe.

Dean’s phone starts ringing and he rolls his eyes at Aidan, after checking the display.

“Aidan,” he sighs as he answers the call, sounding a little annoyed.

“What are you doing?” Aidan does what he can to sound upbeat and charming. “I had so much fun on our last date that I was wondering if you wanted to do something today.”

Dean rubs his eyes and shakes his head, but he can’t keep a smile off his face.

“I’ve got time now. I was out with this tosser who just left me in the middle of London.” 

Aidan starts walking away from Dean, relieved that his plan didn’t backfire. If it takes three dates to have sex with Dean again, then he is determined to get those three dates.

“Ah, that sucks. There is a Starbucks just around the corner from St. Paul’s Cathedral, we could meet there if you’re in the area.” 

“You’re an idiot.”

“Yeah, I know.” Aidan turns back around and flashes Dean his most adorable smile. He has yet to meet someone who is able to say no to that smile. “So? Coffee?”

Dean sighs dramatically.

“Yeah, coffee.” 

 

A couple of minutes later they meet up again in a crowded Starbucks.

“So, you just had a bad date, huh?” Aidan asks as they squeeze through the shop to take their coffee outside.

“The date itself was great,” Dean admits. “Most fun I’ve had in ages. I’m thinking about giving the guy a second chance, actually.”

Aidan raises a fist in victory. They walk around aimlessly, just talking and getting to know each other. Once again, Aidan is amazed how easy it is to talk to Dean. He tells Dean how he came out to his parents, how a boy named Kenny Keegan broke his heart and how he got into prostitution. None of his stories are cute or funny and most likely not second date material, but Dean listens anyway and confides in Aidan with stories of his own. His stories aren’t particularly uplifting either, but Aidan craves to learn more anyway. 

Long after their coffee is gone, they still lie on the grass in one of London’s parks and talk. 

“How about a movie?” Dean asks when the conversation starts to slow. He is doodling on Aidan’s cast with a sharpie he found in a toilet stall.

“Didn’t you have a rule? Nothing I’ve done with a client?” Aidan flicks an accusatory daisy at Dean.

“That only leaves rock climbing and that might be a bit difficult for some of us at the moment.” Dean jumps to his feet and reaches for Aidan’s good arm to pull him up as well. He doesn’t let go of Aidan’s hand all the way to the cinema and it feels very strange to Aidan to hold someone’s hand. Strange, but really nice.

It’s a Saturday afternoon and the weather is gorgeous, so the movie theatre is almost completely empty. The movie is some new Johnny Depp Sci-Fi thing, neither one of them heard about before, and neither one is particularly interested in. Aidan has no complaints when Dean starts kissing him again. He is a little tentative at first, almost as if they hadn’t snogged each other senseless in front of a whole busload of tourists just a few hours ago, but the kisses quickly turn bolder and then become a full make out session. Still, every time Aidan tries to sneak his hand up Dean’s thigh or down his stomach, Dean stops him and it drives Aidan crazy. 

“I could blow you right now,” he whispers after one more kiss that is so wet and messy and good, it makes Aidan’s toes curl. “No one would know.”

Dean wants it as well, Aidan can tell from the way he gasps for air, to the way his fingers dig into his arms, but he still refuses.

“This is a date,” he says under his breath. “Remember, we are doing this properly.”

There he is, Aidan Turner, high-class escort, pretty much prepared to beg for sex.

“No sex until the third date?” 

“Yes. So we have a chance to get to know each other first.”

“Thanks for the date, Dean, I have to go home now,” Aidan gives Dean a kiss on the cheek. “But if you wanted to come over to my place later… we could have our third date.”

“That’s not really the point, is it?” 

“I’ll cook for you,” Aidan offers and he is really starting to sound a little needy. Then again, he feels like he deserves a little bit of happiness after all the shit he went through recently and Dean makes him incredibly happy.

“Really?”

“I’ll heat up frozen pizza,” Aidan admits a little sheepishly. He won’t ever make risotto like Luke did, but he has real talent when it comes to shoving pizza in the oven. He almost never burns it. “And then you can tell me all about your favourite colour and what tree you’d be if you were a tree and your secret superpower…”

Dean shuts Aidan up with another long, desperate kiss. 

“Is a ten minute head start enough?”

“Plenty,” Aidan grins and with one last kiss, he’s gone.

 

On the tube home he debates with himself whether it would be sexy or tacky to open the door for Dean completely naked. He leans more towards tacky, especially if Dean wants to follow through and have another date. Just as he is getting off the train, his phone rings and he hesitates for a moment. It could be Dean telling him that he changed his mind. It could be Dean telling him that he can’t wait to have Aidan on every available surface. Even though it sounds far less likely, Aidan checks. It’s not Dean at all, it’s Ben. 

They haven’t talked since the whole Allan thing and they never ring each other just to catch up, ever, so Aidan answers the phone curiously.

Of course Ben asks about Aidan’s injuries and how he is doing with everything that has happened. Aidan keeps his replies short, because he simply just doesn’t want to talk about it anymore, and Ben is classy enough to get it and move on to the real reason for his call.

“Are you still working?”

“I don’t know,” Aidan says and realises how stupid that sounds. “I’m kind of considering my options, at the moment, I guess.” He doesn’t need to elaborate by saying that his options are kind of limited, if he doesn’t want to continue working as a prostitute. He has given mailman, stable boy at the zoo and underground station cleaner a thought, but somehow all these jobs seem like they might involve hard, underpaid and underappreciated work. 

“Well, Richard and I are starting a new agency together. All male escorts, gay and straight.”

“That’s cool.” Aidan had no idea that Ben and Richard were close enough to be busiess partners, but actually, he can see it working well. Both sure seem to be smart enough to pull it off. “And I guess you almost can’t fuck it up worse than Iago.”

“I think we are trying to set the bar a little higher than that and that is why we want you on board. We’ve seen you grow leaps and bounds since you started and the clients just adore you. We aren’t looking for a cash cow, we are looking for a star and that could be you.” Aidan listens to the sales pitch with mixed feelings. On the one hand, it is really good to hear those things, but it sounds a lot like the stuff Iago told him during their last meeting, that he is the best thing since the invention of Bluetooth . “If you’re interested, we should sit down and talk.”

Aidan kicks a stone as he walks and watches it hop over the cracks in the pavement. 

“Yeah, we should,” he says finally. The idea sounds good and there is no harm in checking out what Ben and Richard have to offer. They also might have some more information about Iago. It makes Aidan nervous not to know where he is or what he is up to. Sometimes he dreams about him jumping out from behind a bush with a camera, filming how he cuts Aidan into little pieces. He’s had a lot of dreams lately, most of them rather unpleasant.

They agree to meet the following day and Aidan is amazed how things seem to fall into place all of a sudden. 

 

“I have some brilliant news,” Aidan announces, when he opens the door.

“Yeah?” Dean asks and slings his arms around Aidan’s neck. “Can it wait?”

Aidan’s reply is lost, mumbled against Dean’s lips, but his enthusiasm, when he kisses back makes words unnecessary, anyway. They kiss their way into the bedroom, teeth clashing, biting at each other’s lips, pushing and pulling and losing their clothes as they go.

“Ah, ow…” Aidan flinches, when Dean tries to get him out of his t-shirt without paying attention to his shoulder.

“Shit, sorry! Did I hurt you?” Dean pulls his hands away from Aidan and almost takes a step away, but Aidan catches him before he does.

“It’s fine. Don’t worry, look.” He pulls the t-shirt off himself. He has an awkward technique that works for him and he smiles reassuringly. Dean nods his head, but he proceeds with a lot more care as he removes the rest of Aidan’s clothes. Having someone else take control makes Aidan tense, but he keeps reminding himself that Dean wouldn’t hurt him. Even if he submitted to him fully, Dean wouldn’t take advantage of him. He cups Aidan’s face between his palms and brushes a thumb over his cheekbone before they kiss again. It feels right and Aidan is ready to let go, so he lies down on the bed, pulling Dean on top of him.

“Are you sure?” Dean breathes between kisses and Aidan spreads his legs a little in response. Yeah, he is sure. He wants Dean to take over, he wants Dean to fuck him. He wants _Dean_. More than he’s wanted anyone ever before.

Dean takes his time. He sucks and licks Aidan’s neck and the moves down his body from there. He lingers on his chest, licking his nipple until Aidan gasps, before he moves to the other. He picked up a few tricks, since their first night together and Aidan is impressed by Dean’s confidence and competence. He seems to know exactly where to kiss and where to lick and where to bite to make Aidan take in a sharp breath through his teeth or squirm or sigh encouraging little words.

When Dean kisses his way back up from the tip of Aidan’s cock to his lips, Aidan slides his hands over his shoulders and down his sides, pressing his fingertips into the skin. It feels soft and warm and definitely not scary. Of course, he’s had sex with Jimmy since the accident, and it was good, but even though he wanted it, it was work. It was about getting his body back into something that functioned and do what it does best. This is different, this is better. He reaches into the drawer next to the bed for Durex Play gel and condoms. Dean takes the lube, spreads it over his fingers and then cradles the back of Aidan’s head with his left hand, pulling him close, while the fingers of his right hand push into his body ever so gently. 

After extensive, caring preparation, the fingers are replaced by Dean’s cock and this time they don’t fuck, they don’t have sex, either. They make love, sweet and slow, bodies rocking into each other until Aidan feels like he is drowning under the waves of pleasure that crash through his body.

His limbs are entwined tightly around Dean’s smaller frame, even while they come down from their orgasm.

“You okay?” Dean asks, interrupting their slow, messy kisses. Aidan looks up at him with a smile that crinkles the corner of his eyes.

“Perfect,” he says and only reluctantly allows Dean to roll off him. He doesn’t know what it is about Dean, but he can’t get enough of him. Something about him makes him want to do it again. Right now.

Dean laughs, when Aidan shares his thoughts, but they agree that getting cleaned up, recovering and pizza sounds like a good idea before they go again.

 

“So, what are the amazing news you wanted to talk about?” Dean asks and picks up a slice of pizza from the plate between them. 

“I don’t have to work as an ice-cream truck driver for the rest of my life,” Aidan starts and then tells Dean about the call he just received from Ben. 

“Are you going to do it?” Dean asks. 

“I don’t know,” Aidan replies, even though he knows in his heart that it is a lie. His mind is made up, but he doesn’t know exactly how to tell Dean that he wants to give Ben and Richard’s agency a shot without scaring him off right away. It’s not really the best idea to start a relationship based on the premise that he is going to sleep with other men. And then there is Jimmy's offer, which is amazing, very generous, but he doesn't feel great about being away to travel with Jimmy. 

He has the contract Jimmy sent him in the kitchen and he glances on the figure at the bottom from time to time. It isn’t as much as he made in a month while worked for Iago, but if he considers that it is a steady income and includes travelling and the fact that he doesn’t have to sleep with strangers and won’t get beaten up again it is a very, very attractive offer. He was close to signing a few times, but now things have changed. He is ready to give a relationship with Dean a chance even if that means saying no to his oldest and most cherished client and a great opportunity.

“I’m sure you will make the right decision,” Dean gives Aidan a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes and after they finish their pizza they end up cuddling and falling asleep curled up around each other.

 

It’s Aidan’s new favourite way to wake up, with Dean next to him, trailing his fingers up and down his chest. 

“Morning,” he mumbles sleepily.

“Morning,” Dean replies. “Did you sleep okay?”

“Isn’t that my line?” Aidan asks. “Considering that you are in my bed?”

“It’s just that you were kind of restless, you know? I hope that wasn’t because of me.”

“Never.” Aidan shakes his head vehemently. He noticed as well that he wakes up a lot during the night lately and doesn’t feel very well rested in the mornings. “I had no problems sleeping in California. I should go back there, I think it’s this room.” He looks around the bedroom thoughtfully. He used to love it, it is his workplace and he always enjoyed spending time in bed, but now he often feels a chill when he spends time in here.

“I’d say that’s pretty understandable.” Dean traces the patterns he drew on Aidan’s cast yesterday. “Coffee?”

“Definitely,” Aidan stretches and starts to untangle his body from the sheet, but Dean stops him. 

“I’ll get it.”

“I think I’ll keep you,” Aidan grins and is a little disappointed when Dean puts his underpants on before he goes to the kitchen.

 

“Only one cup?” 

“Yeah. I’ll grab something on the way,” Dean says as he sets the cup down on the bedside table.

“You’re leaving?” It comes a little unexpected and Aidan sits up in bed while Dean picks up his clothes.

“I think it’s best.” When he is fully dressed, Dean sits down on the bed and takes Aidan’s hand in his. He seems very deflated and disappointed and Aidan thinks that this is not because he buys the wrong brand of coffee. “I’m not angry, I just wish you would have been more honest with me.”

Aidan looks from their hands up to Dean’s face to make any connection from making coffee to what is happening now. He doesn’t understand, he has never been more open with anyone than he has been in the last 24 hours and it hurts to hear Dean say that he thinks he wasn’t.

“I wish you all the best, you are going to have a great adventure, but I can’t be part of that. I can’t sit around and wait for you.”

“What?” 

Dean squeezes his hand and gets up, heading for the door.

“What are you talking about?” Aidan asks a little louder when he realises that this is not a joke. Dean is leaving for real.

“I saw the contract in the kitchen. I didn’t mean to look, but it was just there. I get it, it’s great, but I wish you would have told me that you are going to work for that guy. I mean you have the bloody contract already, so, why hide it? Why the entire story about that new agency?” 

“I wasn’t hiding anything! I told you…” 

Dean shakes his head and just slips out the door before Aidan can tell him that he got it all wrong. That Aidan never meant to sign and that he was just indulging his ego. 

He jumps out of bed and looks for any clothes at all, but can’t find anything except for a sock, so he just wraps himself in a sheet and runs out into the hallway. Dean must have turned into the freaking Flash, because there is no sign of him anywhere.

Aidan sends him a few texts, explaining the situation, but the messages and his calls remain unanswered.


	11. Never mind…

The five stages of grief. Aidan goes through four of them over the next two days. He pulls himself together enough to go to the meeting with Ben and Richard, but even the prospect of getting employed again doesn’t stop the heartache.

Denial. Maybe he was just dreaming? Maybe he is still dreaming? Maybe he is still in the hospital in a coma and everything that happened since he was attacked is just a figment of his imagination. It would certainly explain a lot, even though he can’t see why his sub-consciousness would kill Jola and leave Iago unharmed.

He is fucking angry all right, but he enjoys it in a strange way. It gives him something to do. When he isn’t mad at Dean or himself, he takes it out on innocent things, like the “Keep calm and carry on” mug that was mocking him.

Once all the mugs that had an attitude are smashed up, he wonders if there isn’t something he can do to make Dean talk to him and give him another chance. He would give up smoking if he thought it would help. He also almost sends Dean a message asking if they could still be friends at least, but deletes it just in time.

He finally settles on depression. There isn’t really anything else to do but retreat to his spot on the couch, curled up, asking himself what the hell is wrong with him, why he just can’t be happy for once.

On day three he folds. He’s run out of Guinness and he realises that he can’t move on to the accepting stage, because, honestly, he doesn’t want to. He doesn’t want to accept the fact that he had a chance with Dean and managed to fuck up within less than a day.

With his hands buried in his pockets, his head ducked and his tail between his legs, he visits Adam.

“Ah no, what now?” Graham asks with a sigh as he opens the door. “Ad! You’ve got a visitor! Our favourite drama queer.” 

“’m not,” Aidan mumbles, but Adam invalidates his protest by yelling “Tell Aidan I’ll be right there!” down the stairs.

Graham grins, but he also puts his hand on Aidan’s shoulder in a surprisingly friendly gesture when he tells him to come through to the living room that looks a lot like wedding central. For a small event that is supposed to be just family and close friends, there sure are a lot of napkins, place cards, candles, balloons and heaps of fabric that seem to be tablecloths and chair covers.

“I’ll go make some tea,” Graham announces, while Aidan takes a look around the room. He feels even worse now. Adam and Graham are getting married in just a few days and Aidan has nothing better to do than whine about his own problems? It doesn’t seem right. Aidan stands up a little straighter and puts a smile on his face when he hears Adam clatter down the stairs.

“What’s up?” Adam asks. Aidan can tell that he is expecting some kind of drama and he wonders when that happened. When he stopped being Adam’s best mate and started being a needy nuisance that needs to be picked up and put back together constantly. It was never his intention to turn into that!

“Not much. I just wanted to check if you need last minute help with anything.”

It puts a smile on Adam’s face and Aidan is glad to see it. If all it takes to make Adam happy is being a better friend than that’s easy.

“Can you sew?”

“How many times did you say to me ‘great shirt’ and I said, ‘thanks, I made it’?” Aidan gives Adam a meaningful look.

“Right. Can you fold napkins?”

“No…” 

“Are you willing to learn?”

“Sure.” If Aidan had known what he was getting himself into, he certainly would have said no. Adam gives him a pile of powder blue fabric with white polka dots and shows him how to fold it into a little pocket in about a thousand simple steps. He makes Aidan start over, when something is off centre or simply “doesn’t look pretty”. It is tedious work, especially with the cast on his arm, but he sticks with it, while making light conversation with Adam about all kind of wedding related things.

“So.” Adam takes a break from writing place cards and shakes his hand to keep it from cramping. “There is still one seat left at your table. Should I put a name on one of these? Maybe something starting with D? Ending with 'ean'?”

With a frustrated groan, Aidan takes apart an almost finished napkin pocket again to start over.

“I don’t think so,” he says after smoothing out the fabric for an unnecessarily long time. “I fucked up and he won’t even let me explain.”

“Ah,” Adam replies and doesn’t sound all that surprised. 

“Yeah.” Aidan thinks that he probably wouldn’t be surprised either. He’s at the point where the question isn’t “will Aidan fuck up?” anymore but rather “when will he fuck up?” even though this time it isn’t _entirely_ his fault.

“So what happened?”

Aidan tells the story, including the amazing day they had and the amazing sex and the morning after. Adam wraps his arms around Aidan from behind and kisses the back of his head.

“Aidan, why are things always so complicated with you?” he sighs.

“I don’t know. I’m just not made for relationships.” He should throw in the towel with relationships once and for all, it would be easier for everyone involved.

“Well, then, at the risk of quoting Adele, we’ll have to find someone like you. First priority after the wedding.”

“Yeah, let me know how that goes…” 

 

Aidan accepts Ben and Richard’s offer to join their agency and while he is excited for the opportunity to work again, he is dreading his first meeting with a stranger. They didn’t pressure him and told him that he could start by seeing some of his old clients first, but he knows that he is going to have to go back to normal eventually. 

He joins Adam, Graham and a few of their friends for an impromptu stag night on the night before the wedding and plans to pick up a guy at one of the bars. He just wants to see if he could, but his heart isn’t in it and the thought of going home with a stranger still makes him feel uncomfortable, so he just flirts a little.

And then it’s the big day, the wedding day. Aidan wakes up on the sofa crumpled and hungover to the sound of Adam and Graham having sex upstairs. He knew that it had been a bad idea to stay over from the beginning, but he couldn’t be bothered to take the tube or a taxi across London at three in the morning and it’s not like anyone would miss him at home. Yes, he is jealous. And grouchy. And slightly impressed. He didn’t have Graham down for a loud type. On the other hand, he has seen a lot of quiet guys who really brought down the house during sex. 

He pulls on his trainers and grabs Adam’s keys to get some coffee and breakfast from Greggs around the corner, figuring that – on his special day – Adam should get at least _some_ protein off a plate.

The two of them are still at it, when Aidan returns, so he leaves a note with the coffee and food, grabs his own drink and a breakfast sausage roll and heads home to turn himself into something resembling a human being.

 

“You know, when I came out to my parents, one of the first things my mom said to me was, but Adam, you will never be able to get married.” Adam chuckles softly as he puts the finishing touches on his make-up. “You’ll never have kids.”

“Oh my god, are you trying to tell me that you’re pregnant?” Aidan looks at Adam through narrowed eyes. “You are glowing a bit.”

“Does this nail polish look chipped to you?” Adam extends his middle finger, fake nails painted in a soft shade of pink. He blows Adam a kiss in response.

“Nah, you’re right, I mean, look at you, getting married. In drag. That’s amazing and I am really happy for you.”

“Thanks,” Adam says and pauses. “Do you think I am doing the right thing with this?” He looks down on his body, padded to add to the illusion of femininity.

“I don’t know. It’s what you want and that’s all that matters, isn’t it? Who gives a shit what anyone else thinks?”

“Hm,” Adam replies thoughtfully. “I know your job as Best Man has been pretty easy so far, but now I’m going to need your help with this dress.”

“How do I do that?” Aidan stares at the closure in the back of Adam’s dress doubtfully.

“You just hook it, like a bra.”

“You’re kidding me, right? How many bras do you think I touched in my life?”

“Go on, you can do it.”

They get Adam into the gown eventually and Aidan has to admit that he looks beautiful. He just changes, when he becomes Arial Bold. His attitude is different and it shows in every way.

“I’m really proud of you, you know that?” Aidan often wishes he could be more like Adam, fearless when it really matters. He brings their foreheads together. “You’re my best friend and I really love you and wish you all the best in the world.”

Adam smiles, his eyes are shining dangerously wet, but he doesn’t let the tears fall. Instead he gives Aidan a quick kiss and then wipes away the pink colour his lipstick left.

“Now, do we have everything? Vows?” Aidan pulls out the piece of paper Adam gave him. “Bouquet? Tissues?”

“You’re not gonna cry. You’ll ruin your make up.”

“Do you have them?”

“I do. Oh, hey, stole your line.” Aidan checks his watch. “Speaking of which, it’s time to make an honest woman out of you.”

 

The wedding takes place in Adam’s club. The room is decorated with tons of flowers, fairy lights, lampions and candles so that it hardly looks like a dodgy night club anymore. There are mismatched chairs and some barstools for about 30 people facing the stage where Aidan and Graham’s Best Man, a Scottish bloke named Ken, stand behind the couple as they exchange their vows.

Adam takes the vows he wrote from Aidan, but after a long moment of silence he discards the piece of paper and speaks without any notes.

“Graham, I was in drag, when you proposed to me. So you knew what you were getting into. You are not only getting married to Adam, but to Arial as well. I created this character at a time in my life where I needed someone stronger and braver and, let’s face it, better looking than just Adam. Someone who could stand up for Adam. You showed me that I don’t need a character to be brave and strong, because you give me the courage to be myself.” He pulls the wig off his head and drops it on the ground carelessly before he turns around to Aidan. “Help me with this?”

He continues to speak, as Aidan undoes all the little hooks in the back of the gown that took him so long to attach in the first place.

“It was so important to me to get married as Arial, because I wasn’t sure if Adam was brave enough to do it. I figured it out last night, there is no Adam and there is no Arial, it’s just me and for some reason, you love me. You never doubt me, you never let me think poorly of myself and I promise to love you unconditionally on your best day and to love you even more on your worst day.”

He steps out of the dress and kicks if off the stage. He looks a little silly with the padding and girly undergarments, but no one seems to care. 

“This is me. Let’s get married.”

Aidan feels very moved by the words, because of how well they apply to his situation as well. There are two sides to him, Aidan the normal guy and Aidan the prostitute and even though they are very different from each other and have different needs they are both part of him and it is his job to make sure they coexist peacefully. He can’t just support the escort Aidan and forget about regular Aidan, just because that guy is pretty hopeless.

He notices that Adam is shivering, maybe from the cool air, maybe from nerves, so he helpfully takes off his jacket and wraps it around Adam’s shoulders before Graham continues with his vows.

“Are you okay?” he whispers and Adam nods, smiling.

“Wait. Are you crying?”

“Uh. No, of course not. It’s allergies.” He may have gone a little teary-eyed, but at least he isn’t full on blubbering, like some of the guests. Or Graham. 

 

After the official ceremony, backstage, Aidan helps Adam into his dress once again for the party.

“So, how does it feel to be Mr. Adam McTavish?”

“Amazing. And you know what? I think I’m allowed to wear his clan’s tartan now that I’m part of the family.”

“Is it pink?”

“Nah, but it’s still pretty.” 

They both laugh, but there is no real humour in it for Aidan. Adam’s vows opened Aidan’s eyes to one of his biggest problems. He always puts his work first and if he wants to have something just a little bit like Adam and Graham he needs to change that.

“You’ll get your turn.” Adam says, as if he read Aidan’s thoughts. “But in the meantime, would you check if the photographer is here yet?”

“I thought you didn’t want a photographer.”

“I changed my mind. I do that.” Adam shrugs his shoulders and smiles innocently. Aidan can’t really argue with that, since Adam just changed his mind about something about the wedding ceremony _during_ the wedding ceremony, so he slips out the door to look around.

“Ken, have you seen the photographer?”

“Could that be the guy over there, lugging all that camera equipment around?” Ken asks, not unfriendly but with a definite “duh” undertone in his voice.

“Ah, fuck! No!”

“It’s okay, laddie. He is kind of short and easy to miss.”

“Uh-huh,” Aidan manages and flees back into the room behind the stage, where Adam is inexplicably already making out with Graham.

“What the hell is Dean doing here? And where did you come from?” He doesn’t wait for an answer to either question. He covers his face and mumbles a bunch of four-letter words into his hands.

“Who?” Adam asks a little too sweetly.

“You know who. Dean! The photographer. That’s Dean.” Aidan gestures towards the door wildly.

“Well, colour me surprised. I had no idea!”

Aidan drops his gesticulating hands to his side and tilts his head in the universal gesture of “bitch, please”.

“What else was I supposed to do? I had to get the two of you together somehow and on the plus side, you look really hot in that suit, so you’ve got that going for you.”

“He doesn’t want anything to do with me,” Aidan protests weakly.

“Did it ever occur to you that he is just as scared as you are? There he is, falling in love with you and then he sees the contract and he panics. It’s normal. Now go and fix it!”

“But…” Dean is so good at relationships. Why would he be scared? 

“Go!” Adam says again.

“Don’t insult my husband’s matchmaking skills,” Graham chips in. “He spent a lot of time planning this.”

Aidan rubs at his face one more time, but when he can’t find another argument why this is a bad idea, he goes.

 

“Do you need any help with that?” Aidan sneaks up on Dean and makes him jump.

“Ah, fuck! What the hell are you doing here?” Dean looks at Aidan with wide eyes.

“I told you a million times, that my best mate Adam is getting married today.”

“Yeah,” Dean says. “Adam. I got a call two days ago from a sobbing woman, telling me that their wedding photographer cancelled on short notice and that her life was over unless she found a replacement. Her name was Arielle, not Adam.”

Aidan smiles at that, because that sounds very much like Adam.

“It’s not Arielle, it’s Arial. Arial Bold, like the font on the computer. It’s a drag name.”

“Well, maybe he should have picked a different name.”

“Like what? Times New Roman Italics?” Aidan suggests.

“All I’m saying is that I really can’t hear the difference with your accents.”

“Says the bloke whose pronunciation of beer and bear is interchangeable.” 

Dean gives Aidan one long-suffering look.

“I’ve never encountered any areas in my life where those two words could be confused.”

“Then you clearly have never been to the King’s Arms in SoHo.” Aidan throws his hands up in frustration. Why are they talking about this? Why are they fighting?

“Huh?”

“It’s a bar where bears meet. Not the animals, the gay men with muscles and…”

“Yeah, I know what a bear is,” Dean interrupts.

“Well, you looked confused!”

“I am confused. I didn’t expect to see you here.” There is the hint of a smile tugging in his lips. “Looking like this.”

“It’s a wedding. I made an effort.” 

“I can see that.” Dean reaches up to Aidan’s head to smooth one stubborn curl that just won’t stay slicked back with the rest of his hair. “Sorry.”

“It’s fine. Thanks.” They look at each other, expecting the other to say something, but is only turns into an awkward pause. Luckily they are saved by Adam.

“Look, I’m so sorry to say this, but I changed my mind again. I really don’t want a photographer,” Adam says in his best impersonation of a ditzy bride. “We will pay you for your time and expenses, of course. Or, if you prefer to stay for dinner, you are more than welcome.”

Adam gestures towards the tables that are being set by hunky waiters wearing kilts and nothing else. Aidan can see the place card with his own name. The card on the seat next to his says “Dean O’Gorman” in Adam’s curly handwriting.

“In case it factors into your decision at all, all the food is finger food, perfect for, I don’t know, feeding each other. For example the person sitting next to you. In your case that would be,” Adam reads the place card left from Dean’s seat, “Ken, Graham’s Best Man or, oh, would you look at that. What a totally random coincidence. Aidan, who you just met.” Adam moves a little closer to Dean, but he whispers loud enough for Aidan to hear. “I don’t want to influence your decision, but I would lick anything off his fingers.”

He smiles brightly and gives them both a little wave.

“Now, if you will excuse me, I have to find my husband. All this talk about food has made me horny. I mean hungry.”

Both Aidan and Dean watch him leave with their mouths hanging open.

“Is he always like that?” Dean asks carefully.

“He’s had some champagne. About a bottle.” Aidan makes an apologetic face. “But I think the offer was genuine.”

“Do you want me to stay?”

“I do,” Aidan replies. It’s not the first time those words were said today, it’s not even the most meaningful time they have been said today, but to Aidan it feels like a massive step.

“All right. But I have one condition.” Dean looks at Aidan earnestly. “For tonight, let’s start over. Let’s start at the beginning. Tomorrow we can talk about everything that happened, but let’s try and meet for the first time tonight.”

Aidan looks at the earnest expression on Dean’s face and, yeah, it sounds like a plan. They wouldn’t want to ruin a wedding trying to figure out where and when and how many times they went wrong and how they could possibly be together and stay together.

“Let’s.”

Dean extends his hand to Aidan.

“Hi. I’m Dean. I think we’re sitting next to each other. I’m the photographer, by the way. Or… was.”

Aidan shakes Dean’s hand.

“I’m Aidan and I’m a whore.”


End file.
